The Noble Sort
by MelissaRose85
Summary: All shinigami have secrets. Beneath the orderly, disciplined military appearance of Soul Society is a dark underworld, and no one's immune. Rated M for a reason. Ukitake/OC. Shunsui/Nanao.
1. Prologue

A/N: This is a little different for me, not only because it is set in a universe that I enjoy but have never written for but it also includes an OC character. I hate OCs, as I worry about Mary Sue-ness (and please, warn me if it goes there!). Unfortunately, after a very long conversation with a die-hard Bleach fan, I've found that there really isn't a woman in the manga or anime fitting the personality I have in mind. So, I'm venturing into new territory in a few ways.

This will be multi-chaptered, but the timeline sometimes won't make sense. I'll try to keep it as understandable as I can time-wise. For all the past events, assume the present is somewhere around now, as it is in the manga.

And this is somewhat AU. My character has to be thrown in between Lisa Yadoumaru and Nanao Ise as far as the timeline goes. That puts her in the Seireitei as a fuku-taichou somewhere around 100-76 years ago, and like all the Kyouraku ladies, she'll fit the type. But this is not a romance involving him, other than some peeks at Shunsui/Nanao (who I heart desperately). As for her full timeline, it'll become clear eventually.

And a warning: this might get dark in places. It's going to deal with some subjects that might make some of you uncomfortable. There will be some major issues dealt with, and if you can't handle anything that explores _all_ of humanity, I wouldn't suggest you read. This will have fluffy moments and some comedy, but there will also be some heartbreak and darkness. Be warned.

And expect this to proceed slowly—I'm not going to hurry through this story at all.

And as a side note, I started this story back in March and April. It's been a constant work in progress for months, and I will say (without spoiling it for those of you who don't know), while I anticipated some of the recent manga events, I didn't see all of it coming. It is a coincidence—good or not, I don't know yet. It might make this more AU than I wanted.

So enjoy, hopefully I can as well! And please, leave some feedback if you have it! I'm not a review hog, as anyone who reads my stuff knows, but the feedback lets me know if you enjoy it and actually care to continue reading. It wouldn't be the first story I yanked prematurely because I didn't think anyone liked it. (And no, for those of you who have followed me for years, on FF, AFF, or LJ, there are no plans to renew that monster.)

And, as a side note, I'm writing all of this listening to the Bleach Soundtracks and the Beat collection. I highly recommend it, just because you get to hear ZARAKI sing. It's awesome.

* * *

"The Noble Sort"

* * *

_76 Years Ago_

_Pain. Indescribable pain._

_The burning in her body lit up her nerve endings, sending fire racing from her abdomen straight up her spine. She could feel the connection between each and every vertebra as the sensation shot upward. It was the most agonizing thing she could remember, although her brain wasn't working the way it should have been._

_Truthfully, she had never imagined this situation would be this painful—she hadn't thought it remotely possible. _

_Yet here she was, incapacitated, unable to move other than a few centimeters to try to escape the burning pain, and having every conscious hypothetical thought she ever had about such a situation proven definitely wrong. _

_The sensation of hardness tearing through dry, stretched tissue had woken her from a drugged sleep not even minutes ago. The cot felt heavy against her back, almost moist, which told her that she had, at some point, been sweating profusely. And all she could see—if it could even be called sight, considering the wavy image her eyes were feeding to her brain—was a silhouette of someone, something, above her, haloed by a bright light on the ceiling above. _

_As her unknown assailant continued his assault on her body, she felt skin splitting, rubbed raw from friction, and the fire brought tears to her eyes. Every stroke of his hips against hers was pure agony on a level she had never imagined. It hurt._

_She had, in the back of her mind, always assumed her body would eventually react to the stimulation and lessen any early pain. This was a scenario every female she knew had thought about at one point or another, and they all had their own beliefs about it. She was wrong. On everything. _

_As her assailant picked up the pace, she stopped jerking her hips away from him, finally realizing subconsciously that there was no escaping the situation. As the first tear fell into her hair, already matted from something and she didn't want to know-it's bad enough to know this is happening-whoknowswhatitis-ohkami, she felt her psyche split into two separate parts, with some part of her consciousness staying in the real world just enough to warn her when everything was over. _

_The rest of her flew off into some other dimension, far from her present reality. _

_Like an echo in a too large room, she heard the man above her grunt as his thrusts became slower, jerkier, and a bead of sweat dropped from his hair line, dribbling down her forehead to mingle with her tears. She could feel the track it made on her face, tingling afterward._

_He didn't allow himself the normal after-sex languid collapse onto his partner's body; instead, he wrenched himself up with another heavy noise, almost rolling off the bed she was secured to. His loud footfalls echoed in the concrete room, as did the heavy sound of the door shutting behind him. _

_What she didn't expect was the woman who came near after his departure, her calm, disturbing-did she watch-did she justwatchhimdothistome, face appear above her own at an odd angle. The pale woman leaned down, and mechanically said, "he's done now; rest."_

_Rest. Somewhere inside, she laughed. _

_She felt sanity give way as she finally realized what truly just happened. _

_Rape._

_Sanctioned rape. _

_The woman leaning over her was wearing shinigami robes that came with a texture and a smell she would always remember, even if she never donned another pair herself. _

_One of her own had just raped her._

When Minako approached her mother and uncle three days after finally remembering, in full, the events that had taken place in the long hours she had been absent from her family home, the disbelief they showed wounded her acutely.

She could still see them, sitting in high state at her mother's formal kotatsu, sipping tea from the beautifully thin china that had been a wedding gift to her mother over a millennia ago, their faces wrinkled into disbelief and something very close to scorn. It was a side of them she had rarely been able to see, one usually reserved for their subordinates, not her.

She had had an entire side of the table to herself—how it had felt like an interview!—and they had been, in full effect, the crowning monarchs of the family passing judgment on her behavior. Or their presumption of what was her behavior—it wasn't like she had went out and done this herself.

It had been almost fifty years since she had felt so young and stupid.

It was a memory that would haunt her forever.

Never before had she had a reason to lie to them; she had always been a good, obedient child. (She was sure someone was laughing somewhere at the amount of proof in the universe that showed good and obedient were not two words usually attributed to her by her uncle.)

Okay, so maybe not good and obedient, but she wasn't the type of girl the crazy ninja police brought home because they had gotten caught breaking into something or being a menace somewhere after hours. She had been relatively well behaved.

So there had been some incidents in her youth—like everyone, she had been prone to adolescent idiocy and it usually ended in a horrible fight with her uncle—but the fact that they sat before her, unbelieving, led her to feel a stab of betrayal so deep she was sure it would never go away.

She knew, sat the very least, she had never lied about the important stuff—not the stuff that mattered in the end. She had always been very loyal in that respect. But their behavior made it obvious that they didn't believe her at all.

Why didn't she tell them that night, they asked.

Why had she not come to them earlier, they asked.

Why had she destroyed the evidence, they asked.

It seemed to Minako that her family conveniently forgot that she had had no idea where she had been that fateful Sunday night, and that the only reason she was able to come forward about the incident now was thanks to a minor shinigami in her division, whose specialty just happened to be mind alteration. Without Juro, she would still be as clueless as they were.

Which was unfortunate, considering her uncle seemed to loathe the sight of the eccentric shinigami anytime she brought him around the house.

She hadn't known anything about it until he had helped her, which was startling. There was no pain, although now she knew, she could clearly see the scars she had received.

Even more hurtful was the fact that her uncle said, if a rape did occur, then it was most likely a lone male shinigami, not as part of some farfetched conspiracy (apparently she was also a _bad_ liar). She understood his problem with the idea; even she had wondered about her memories.

But her mind wasn't lying, according to Juro, and he had been almost as upset as she at the apparent heartlessness and calculated cruelty in the act.

She could still hear him retching in her mind, his body reacting to the disgust he had felt at the memories he witnessed. It had been somewhat disturbing to see the poor man in that shape emotionally.

Of course, her family had been upset as well, just with the idea that she would lie to them about the attack and not give them the full details. There had been no sympathy about the supposed—and she hated that they used that word—attack.

To her, it was a blatant denial of the full truth of the attack, and in her injured mindset, a denial of her.

There were, unfortunately, no suspects. The glaring light that had been shining down on her naked body had masked the shinigami's identity, and the woman who had spoken to her afterward looked like any number of Japanese women—pale, dark-haired, with brown eyes. There was nothing about her that could be considered unique or distinguishable.

So after the disappointing meeting with the heads of her family—truthfully the only parts of her family left—she had done the only thing she could think of…

She buried it.

She pushed the events to the far recesses of her mind, intent on carrying on with her life and her fuku-taichou duties. Her taichou would accept nothing less than her full effort, and he would get it.

And he did receive the best of her, at least for some weeks after the event.

But her best was less than the norm. The memories continually reared their ugly little selves when she least expected it, and it was the root of her newly-developed insomnia. She was also developing a paranoia that couldn't be allowed to continue, not with everyone around her wearing the uniform that was causing it. Her appetite was slipping. Her entire appearance and personality was undergoing a change.

Her perfect work record was slipping due to her condition, and her performance with it.

Her taichou, the nice man he was, never said anything other than prodding her to get more sleep. A well-placed "You should make it an early night, Minako-chan," or "You need to catch up on your beauty sleep, Minako-chan!" were his only comments.

Although, she did catch the covert, nonchalant concerned looks he kept sending her way. It really bothered her once the jokes—and the crappy come-ons—stopped. If he no longer thought her fit to joke with, he was definitely worried. It was the only way he would show it.

Eventually, though, prodding her wasn't enough. He took care of the situation in his own crazy way—he pulled Isane into the division's offices and literally locked them in a room together, telling her that if she wouldn't talk to him, maybe she would talk to _her_.

Yeah. Right.

They did enjoy the afternoon, though, and some gossip.

It had been a long time since either had free time to just be lazy and girly. The two friends were rarely free enough to do anything so fun, not with the schedules they had.

But she realized that the Isane Incident, as it would be called from then on, meant that she had to hide the psychological damage of the attack much better than she had been. He would only continue to push her if the signs of her psychological problems were still evident afterward.

So she worked doubly hard at being normal, tried to continue on with her duties, but the memories continued to plague her.

It all came to a head almost three months after the incident; she had been sick for some time, and she couldn't seem to fight back whatever was plaguing her. It had started slowly but built into something that was quickly becoming hard to manage and hide, especially from her taichou.

A trip to the Fourth Division after a week of suffering resulted in the hushed words she had feared after the attack.

_Pregnant._

_You're pregnant._

Thankfully, Isane vowed to keep the results secret; she wouldn't have to face anyone over the matter except the sweet medic. It would mean terrible trouble if they were found out, from both Unohana-taichou and her uncle, but she would hope for the best.

Some bastard had raped her, and now she faced a terrible decision: did she keep the baby? Could she possibly raise the child?

Even if the social stigma of being an unwed mother was not enough to pressure her into an abortion, the obvious disgust that she would face from her family cemented it. She couldn't possibly raise the child of the man who raped her, and she couldn't go to her family about this problem.

She briefly considered going to her own taichou; he would help with anything, she knew, but felt it was better to leave him out of it. He might find his loyalty to her uncle was more important and tell him, or he just might not agree with her decision.

That alone was heartbreaking; she had never really kept anything big from him. He had always been the one person she could trust. There were little things, sure, but when it mattered he was the first she went to. Changing that status quo ripped her soul.

Still.

She had finally _fully_ made her decision, but now she had even more problems—such medical practices were common in the Seireitei for women, but there was the slight problem of having to inform Unohana-taichou. She would definitely tell her uncle.

And if she went to the human world, she faced medical practices that were commonly deadly to the populace.

She and Isane had a long conversation that weekend, closeted in her room until late in the night, jumping at every noise they heard and scared that her uncle would pop in at any minute. They had, at times, felt like young girls again, hiding under the covers when the parents came in to shush their giggling.

But this wasn't giggling, and it definitely wasn't some small fry situation like which boy they liked at the academy.

Finally, a decision was reached.

She would go to the human realm and contact one of the many medical practitioners that the courtesans and geisha commonly used; they were skilled in the procedure, according to Isane, due to its regularity among those women. She would go through the procedure as quickly as possible, giving herself some time to recover. Once she returned, Isane would be waiting to examine her and make sure that everything had been done correctly and that there would be no lingering problems, and then they would forget it had ever happened.

If she was caught, or someone found out she was pregnant and reported it, she would take the blame herself and leave Isane out of it. Likewise, if Isane was found to have kept a medical test out of a patient's file, she would claim it was all her doing, that the patient knew nothing about the test. There was no name on the examination sheet for a reason.

Each would protect the other if someone found out what they had done.

Minako was sure that this was not the large crime they were making it out to be; after all, it was normal in the Seireitei. Female shinigami could not usually afford the time it took to have children, especially at their level.

But there were problems, one being the fact that children were so rare and her bloodline considered important enough—and endangered enough, with only three of them—she would most likely be forced to keep it, even if she handed it over to someone else after the birth.

The other problem was her uncle—while the relation was not known by everyone in the Seireitei, enough shinigami knew who she was to make it an issue. It would be a scandal of immense proportions.

So, with their plan as perfect as they could get it, Minako approached her taichou and asked for a week or so pass in the human world. She gave all sorts of excuses, most of which he brushed off. Finally, she just told him she needed to get away and fight _something._

Her taichou might not have been bloodthirsty, and he might have chosen to avoid every fight he could, but he understood, apparently, that sometimes she just had to kick the crap out of something.

She was packed and ready in under an hour, and she had all the information she could possibly need, as well as an address she'd never thought it likely she would need.

The trip itself was quick, and she soon found herself in the human world, alone and scared stiff.

* * *

There was no way.

No.

_No._

The word kept running through her mind, bouncing off of her skull.

She had, after four days of trying, finally found a female servant to one of the local okiya that would actually talk to her. A few pieces of the precious gold she had brought with her, along with a decent meal for the half-starved pre-teen, had earned her the name of a doctor not a few blocks from here that would perform an abortion.

He was secretive, he had few ethical scruples, and, she had been told, he won't even ask your name. His patients were usually from the okiya, but he was known to have taken on individual cases when the money was right.

The young girl told her that it was a normal procedure for the women of the district, as pregnant geisha wouldn't get customers. She knew that at least three of the geisha and maiko in her okiya had been to see the man, and each had returned to work only a few short weeks after their visit with the doctor.

If he could keep the secret of lost virginity for a maiko, he would do for her.

She thanked the young girl, obviously way too world wise for her age, and made her way out of the small inn they had visited for lunch.

She quickly made her to his office, a small set of rooms in the back of a typical two story wooden home, and was admitted into his care after giving up most of the remaining gold pieces she had brought with her.

He explained that she would be given a mixture of herbs that would cause a miscarriage. She should expect some pain, and definitely quite a bit of bleeding. He would make sure that the fetus was expelled, and then she would be on her way.

She had been rightfully worried about the process, but he had assured her it was as normal as any back alley process could be. It was very common among the geisha and the female prostitutes in the district. No one wanted to have a child pop up in such a line of work.

He even told her it was becoming more common among the local women, who didn't want another child to protect and feed during the massive war they were fighting with America and China.

So, a little less wary of the procedure, she went ahead with it.

The first dose didn't work. She did bleed, and heavily, but he was adamant that there was no child present. So the next day, she was given another dose. Yet again she bled, and the pain was intense. But again, he was sure there was no child.

Each night was terrible, and she was sicker than she had ever imagined.

Her body was fighting the herbs, which were obviously very strong, and the cramping, the nausea, the vomiting all resulted in no sleep and horrible sickness.

On the last day of her allotted time in the human world, he gave her a final dose. He had warned her that this was all he could do; if no child was present she was not pregnant. And any more of his abortifacient meant she could be permanently damaged. Any future chance at a family could disappear, and there could be health problems. She understood his reticence and thanked him for his care.

Because on that third try, there was still nothing. He examined the sheets and her body, and told her he was quite sure she wasn't pregnant.

He assured her that sometimes this happened, that women thought they were pregnant and went through the procedure when they didn't need it. But she knew she was pregnant; was the gigai the problem?

No, it couldn't be. He had been able to identify that she had been brutally taken in the last few months, so it wasn't the gigai. And Isane—a much more knowledgeable physician—would have said something.

_No_.

How was she not pregnant? Isane was so sure that she was. She said there was definitely a small, foreign spiritual pressure present in her abdomen. Sure, she didn't have many of the symptoms of pregnancy, other than fatigue and some nausea, but how could one of the best medics in Seireitei be wrong?

None of this mattered anyway; her time was up.

There was an even larger problem looming over her head than the failed abortion.

She couldn't go back to the Seireitei pregnant. Or not. Whatever the case was, she couldn't return right now. If she returned only to give birth in six or seven months, then all of this had been for nothing and she would face everything she was trying to circumvent.

It felt like everything was closing in on her, the world narrowing to a sharp point at the end of a long tunnel.

Disappointed faces ran through her mind's eye—her uncle, her mother, her taichou—and she knew there was only one choice.

There was only one alternative.

Thank the Kami Kuukaku had prepared her.

The little shop she found at the address she had been given was nothing to look at. There were no lights on, no little cheery signs or happy cats in the windows. If she didn't know better, she would say it wasn't even a shop.

Of course it wasn't.

Kuukaku had told her, though, that this was definitely the place. Yoruichi had given her the information personally. It was supposed to be a last resort.

She slowly walked across the deserted dirt road, cautious and on the lookout for any traps he might have laid for shinigami—or anyone else—too close to his little hideout. Everyone was extra cautious with the war on, and am exiled shinigami would be even more so.

Nothing happened, and she was able to step up onto the tiny porch and knock on the large rice paper doors.

There was no reaction from inside the place for some time, and then she saw a flicker of light from the back of the store spreading across the wood and paper doors like firelight. Footsteps, light and echoing, were clearly discernable.

And then the door whooshed open, and she came face to face with someone she hadn't seen in decades.

His face was full of shock, something rarely seen on the technology genius. Other than that, he seemed to have aged only a small amount. He looked exactly like he had the last time she had seen him, other than the facial hair.

And he wasn't in chains this time. But that was expected.

He soon recovered, bowed his head in her direction, and stepped to the side to allow her to enter.

The door slid shut softly, and she watched his retreat to the back of the store and down a long hallway, all the time motioning with his unburdened arm for her to come with him. He led her to a small room occupied with only a table and some shelves, and gestured for her to sit down.

She didn't.

She watched as he folded himself under the bare table, his lantern placed right in the center, Benihime now propped against the table instead of secured in his armpit.

She dropped the tiny travel pack she had brought with her heavily to the floor. Then, as gracefully as possible considering how bad she felt right now, she folded her body until she was resting on her knees in the most formal bow she could mimic, and brought herself low, to the carpet.

"I need your help."

His eyes shined with sympathy, and she heard the ticking of a clock in the background.

She was late. Missing.

Yamamoto Minako had officially defected from the Gōtei 13.

* * *

A/N: I should probably say a few things about the prologue, other than I warned you. Although I did warn you. There are going to be some very heavy issues dealt with. This is just the beginning, folks.

Firstly, I'm basing Isane's medical technique on what I'm assuming from the manga and anime. We know they focus heavily on reishi, but also do surgery. So I'm going to blend the two together. We haven't seen a lot of how the medical procedures actually work, so I'm trying to keep loyal to Kubo's work but having to make some of it up from what I think is going on.

Secondly, if there are any terms you don't know, feel free to ask. I'm assuming some basic Japanese knowledge, although I know many don't speak it. And the form can always be different; much of it depends on where your teacher came from. Mine is from Hiroshima, rural, and she had admitted there are some spelling differences when translating to Romanji, especially in western culture. But _shinigami_ is soul reaper, _gigai_ the human shells they use, _Seireitei_ the Soul Society, and _taichou _is captain. There will be more, and I'll try to point them out as I go.

Finally, an abortifacient, for those of you who don't know, was usually an herbal mixture that midwives or physicians used not to abort but to bring about the menstrual cycle. That was its official purpose. Unofficially, they were chemical abortions. The practice is thousands of years old and Japanese geisha—and probably regular women as well—were aware of the practice long before the WWII era this part was set in. It was a normal practice among these women, as they really couldn't afford the pregnancy while working and many of the children were obviously conceived by already married men.

They did tend to be harmful, though, so the dosage had to be as close to exact as possible. They would commonly make a woman very ill during the process.

If I have offended anyone, I'm sorry, but there are facets of the human existence that we repeatedly try to ignore. But they are part of our history and I'm including them.

I'll be posting this prologue with the actual first chapter so that the story gets going. I'm not going to just leave it at that right now!


	2. Chapter 1

A/N: This is the actual beginning of the present story, although the prologue is needed to make sense of everything from here on out. Any notes on the chapter are, as always, at the bottom.

I apologize in advance for any errors; I'm checking four or five times but occasionally something slips by me.

So enjoy, hopefully I can as well! And please, leave some feedback if you have it!

* * *

"The Noble Sort"

* * *

_Present Day_

Sou-taichou Yamamoto Genryuusai Shigekuni sat high in his chair, staring heavily at the assembly of taichou before him. With the battle against Aizen now considered 'imminent,' he would need his best to carry out the mission he was setting before them. The problem was, he could only afford to have three of them occupied on this mission, and he was sure that would still be one body too many outside Seireitei.

The idea of sending three of his most powerful into the human realm for something that could be seen as frivolous, depending upon the person commenting on his actions, was a major worry. But he had little choice; he was forced to make decisions based upon the protection of Seireitei. This was his choice.

He sighed, fingering his long, white beard; he should have taken care of this years ago instead of waiting until it became a looming regret at the end of his life. Now, he was facing a war he knew he couldn't handle without some sort of back-up plan.

Unfortunately, that back-up plan had left the Seireitei almost eighty years ago. Her current whereabouts were unknown, something that plagued him endlessly. She did not know of her mother's death, did not know that Seireitei was going to be ripped apart by a madman.

Looking back upon his decisions, he could see he had sometimes been very wrong, almost to the point of idiocy. Unfortunately, hindsight allowed him a view upon his actions that he did not have the luxury of before. Very little was discernible until it was too late, and this was even true with men as powerful as he.

This was another situation where he had allowed his temper and pride to preside over his actions, and now he was regretting it. But there was only one solution, and he wasn't sure how well he could help them with the task he would lay before them.

He had very little information to offer them. None of it was recent.

But it had to be done. He would take that blasted Urahara's assurances that the other rogues would be present during the war, the ones he _wasn't supposed to know about_, but there was someone he needed tracked down by his own people, even if he was letting his personal feelings rule this decision.

He had some unfinished business to take care of before facing Aizen Sousuke.

"Most of you have your orders." He shifted slightly, drawing their eyes. "There are three of you that have not been given any further instructions. You will stay."

The others bowed their heads and quickly exited the room, rushing to claim their fuku-taichou and get to work. No one wanted to stick around, either, when he was putting off a vibe that made the small hairs on the back of their necks stand on end.

The three left before him, though, stood silently. He was well aware that they were not bothered in the least by his mood or the level of reiatsu surrounding him.

"Kuchiki, Shunsui, Juushirou…I have a special assignment for you. You will be traveling to the human world with the team dispatched tomorrow, although your teams will not be working together unless necessary."

The three men stared at him, stoic.

"There is…someone…I need you to find. I have some information on the target, but it is at least a decade old. I cannot guarantee its veracity."

"Aa, Yama-jii, who is this target?"

The sou-taichou looked to the side, one of his eyes opening momentarily before he recollected himself.

"She is not technically a target." He cleared his throat, glancing at his former student without really glancing, something only he had ever truly perfected. "The person you are commanded to find is Yamamoto Minako, former fuku-taichou of the Gōtei 13. It is imperative that you find her, and bring her to me."

Shunsui, startled, stared at his old sensei with a dreadful look on his face.

"Are you quite serious, jii-jii?"

"Of course I'm serious!" he boomed, forgetting that one of the taichou present was not used to actually seeing _him_, just the persona he emitted. He was focused on his students, not the interloper into their private world. "I can't have a taichou-class shinigami running around in the human world, free, and not involved in this war. We will need everyone we can get."

"You told me that she would never be admitted to the Seireitei again," Shunsui countered, his expression sour and unusual.

"Time has made me rethink many of my decisions," he stated, a faraway look on his face. "Not even I am omnipotent, Shunsui."

The room was silent.

"There are many things you do not know about your former fuku-taichou, Shunsui. Things that would greatly change your opinion of her…and of me."

The three assembled taichou continued to stare unabashedly at the decidedly abnormal Commander in front of them.

"Shunsui," the sou-taichou said, eyes dark and glittering, and fully open for the first time all day, "if I told you every wrong I have done that child, you would wish to kill me on her behalf. There are reparations to be made before we march into a battle that may take all our lives. And I will be one of the first to admit that her power would be useful if we have to go to war."

He nodded, apparently satisfied, although everyone present knew that this was, most likely, not the end of this conversation.

"Very well. I suggest you leave at once. The completely inadequate amount of information I have managed to gather has been prepared for you." At this, the First Division's fuku-taichou stepped forward, passing Shunsui a pathetic dossier.

It was little more than a folder with a scrap or two of paper and a picture. It wouldn't be of much help.

The three men nodded, once again bowing slightly to their Commander, before turning on their heels and exiting the room silently. No one dared to broach the subject of their very odd assignment anywhere near the man now sitting silently in contemplation.

The silence continued until they were outside of the First Division's compound, and then, as if a weight had been lifted as they walked underneath the large gate, the discussion lit up.

"I was not aware that he had kept tabs on her," Shunsui said as he browsed the few scraps of paper in the dossier. Juushirou leaned over, giving the dossier a quick, sweeping glance before straightening. There had been nothing of note from what he had seen. There were snippets of information in between large blocks of time that she had not been found by any of his sensei's clerks.

"Nor I. But is it really so unbelievable? He doted on her."

"I know. So did I, really, although we both teased her horribly when she was young."

The two men smiled at each other, memories from the past blurring through their minds.

"Did she ever explain to you why she left?" Juushirou asked.

"Nah. She always had some secrets. Especially those last few months. Something was bothering her, but I couldn't get it out of her at all."

The Sixth Division taichou, Kuchiki Byakuya, stopped, staring at the two men. He felt left out, and while he would normally never bring it to anyone's notice, the only way to get the information needed to complete this assignment was to talk to the two with him. Obviously, from what he had seen as Kyouraku-taichou had flipped through the file, there was little information for him to get by any other method.

"And who is Yamamoto Minako?" he asked, his haughty air still in place.

The two beside him goggled in disbelief momentarily, stunned at the cluelessness of one of the most intelligent and informed taichou, before Shunsui finally came back to life.

He cleared his throat.

"She was Yama-jii's niece. His brother's kid. His brother died when she was young, though, and Yama-jii ended up taking care of the brat and her mother, like they needed it. Yamamoto Arisu, Minako-chan's mother, was taichou of the Fourth Division a long time ago. She trained with Retsu-san, in fact. She was a member of Central until Aizen's mass murder of everyone in the building."

Byakuya nodded, listening, as they resumed their set pace.

"She was a brilliant kid. Her mother trained her well—she was deadly with a sword. She," he chuckled under his breath, "she was horrible at kidō. I once saw her pull off Tozanshō like it was no problem and then falter trying to initiate a low level binding spell. Of course, the situations were _very _different. "

"We all have our faults, Kyouraku," Juushirou admitted, a small smile on his face.

"Indeed we do, my friend. But she was part of a division that specialized in something she was horrible at."

"Only because he would not let her go the route she wanted. We all knew that," Juushirou said, he eyes focused on the ground in front of him.

"Was she truly taichou level?" Byakuya asked, interested in the skill of the woman they would most likely have to fight to bring back to the Seireitei.

"Yeah. She was my fuku-taichou for about thirty years, until she left, and she had been a member of my squad previously. I know she had achieved Bankai, although I was never able to witness it. She wasn't ever made a captain due to Yama-jii's status; there was a conflict of interest, according to Central."

He stopped, staring off into the distance. The two men with him halted further down the gleaming path, turning back toward him. His pale pink kimono fluttered in the wind, and he turned toward the east.

"We need to talk to Retsu-san's fuku-taichou. She and Minako-chan were close, especially those last few weeks."

Juushirou and Byakuya moved to follow him to the Fourth Division's Headquarters, but Juushirou was skeptical.

"Wouldn't Genryuusai-sensei have spoken to her?" he asked, perplexed.

A dark look passed over Kyouraku's face for a shadow of a moment.

"No. I doubt he even knew how close they were." Juushirou looked shocked. "Aa, he doted on her, but their relationship was strained at the end. Like I said, something was bothering her for months before she finally left."

They continued, silent, for the twenty or so minutes it took for them to reach the Fourth Division's Headquarters.

The three taichou entered the compound, causing a bolt of electric shock to go through the inhabitants in the courtyard. It was rare for those three to be together, much less visiting the Fourth Division. Especially when blood wasn't visibly covering anyone.

A slight shinigami near the back turned on his heel and ran around the left side of the building and straight to the taichou's office. There was only one person they could possibly be there to see.

By the time they arrived, Unohana-taichou was seated at a small kotatsu in her office, a tea service and rice cakes present. Greetings were exchanged, and the three taichou were shortly seated next to her.

"Please, would you like some tea? Perhaps some refreshments?" The serene smile on her face never slipped, even though it must have been somewhat disconcerting for all three of them to be there at once.

The woman they were looking for moved from the adjacent wall towards them, slowly but assuredly preparing their tea and making sure that each one had a small plate with two rice cakes. Her duties finished, she turned to exit through a door on the left side of the room, but Juushirou stopped her.

"Kotetsu-san, would you please stay? It is actually you that we have come to speak to."

Both Unohana-taichou and Kotetsu-fuku-taichou looked surprised, but Unohana gave her a small nod and the fuku-taichou turned around, seating herself behind and slightly to the right of her taichou.

"Unohana-taichou, we have been given an assignment, and we believe your fuku-taichou has information that would be useful," Byakuya said, staring at Unohana the entire time he spoke.

"Oh? I don't know how, but if she can be of any help, Kuchiki-taichou, you may ask her anything you wish." She set her tea cup down on its matching saucer, and smiled at the men. "Of course, I will have to stay in the room, you understand."

While she was soft spoken, none of the men took it as a request. Everyone knew she would not be moving from the room.

"Maa, maa. You're not in any trouble, Isane-san," Kyouraku said once he saw the look of dread on the young lady's face. "We just need to ask you some questions."

"I—of course, Kyouraku-taichou. I'll be happy to help however I can."

Unohana smiled, pleased, and waved her hand as if signaling the beginning of the interrogation.

"You remember my fuku-taichou before Nanao-chan, yes? Minako-chan? I know the two of you were friends."

Byakuya noticed the fine tremor in Kotetsu Isane's folded hands, as well as Unohana-taichou's own flinch at the name. Both of these women were very familiar with their target.

"H—hai, taichou."

"I'm sure you remember; one afternoon I drug you to the Eighth Division and locked the two of you in the office. Something had been bothering her, and I was hoping a friend would help clear the air." He paused and gave her a slow smile. "What happened, hm?"

Isane blinked rapidly, before lowering her gaze to her clasped hands in her lap. "Nothing much, really. I don't remember word for word what was said, but we just gossiped. She wouldn't tell me what was wrong."

Kyouraku slumped a little, but continued.

"So she never told you why she was upset?" All four taichou watched as her hands fisted in her lap. "If it had something to do with her defection from the Gōtei 13, we need to know."

"I—I shouldn't—" she shot a helpless look at Unohana, praying for her taichou to rescue her from the impromptu interrogation, but her taichou was still sitting perfectly serenely and sipping her tea. "I promised I wouldn't say anything about it. And I—I don't know everything."

"Then tell us what you know," Byakuya said, the demanding tone clear in his aristocratic voice.

"I—" Isane squeezed her eyes shut and her hands were fisted so tight the skin was paler than normal. "Oh, Unohana-taichou, you'll be angry, I know it!"

There were tears coming from the corners of her eyes now, and Unohana had lost the serene smile she had been wearing.

"Indeed, Isane? I am sure that whatever you have done is not so terrible."

"But it _is_!" she cried, aghast at her taichou's easy acceptance of a situation she knew nothing about.

"We shall see if it is as bad as all that. I'm sure that whatever you did, it was done helping a friend," Juushirou said, hoping to calm the girl down. It wouldn't do them any good if she was too distraught to help them, and he couldn't stand seeing a woman cry.

"_Yes_! But that doesn't make it _right_!"

"What happened, Kotetsu-san," Juushirou asked gently, hoping to calm her down.

"I—oh, my," she took a deep breath, closing her eyes, before finally calming herself down somewhat and looking at them again. "About two months after that afternoon, Minako came to see me. She hadn't been feeling well, and she wanted me to examine her, see if I could figure out what was wrong."

"It was strange, too. She had been very—standoffish—before that. She hadn't wanted to do anything, go out; we couldn't get her to leave the house. But I was hoping she had finally decided to talk and that the exam was just her way of getting my attention."

She looked at them sheepishly, her shoulders curving inward.

"We all knew she was upset about something. But she wouldn't talk to anyone. When given the chance to finally get her alone and talking, I took it."

"I did a full examination, and I was…shocked…at what I found. As you said, Kyouraku-taichou, I knew her well. I didn't understand how the results could be right. But I reviewed everything and came to the conclusion I _was_ right. Once I told her, it all just…spilled out."

"What was it, then, Isane?" Unohana asked, gently.

Isane closed her eyes, her chest heaving as she took in a large breath. When she reopened them they were glistening with the remnants of her tears and a new fire that none of them could explain.

"She was _pregnant_," Isane hissed, her voice low. "And there was no way for her to be."

Both Kyouraku and Unohana's eyebrows went up.

There was a loud, jarring noise as someone moved to sit their teacup down. Everyone was shocked at the words that had come out of her mouth.

"She never told me—" Kyouraku started.

"Of course she didn't!" Isane said, looking shocked herself that she had raised her voice to a taichou.

The room was silent for a moment.

"I was never notified of this, either," Unohana said quietly.

Isane looked at the floor, sullen. "No one knew but us. Sou-taichou would have killed her if he found out."

"Aa, but Isane-san, my fuku-taichou was not…with anyone. I'm sure."

"No, she wasn't," she said, hushed. "Even when we weren't…close…I knew that."

"So she left because she was expecting," Byakuya said.

"Not exactly," Isane said shakily. "She was supposed to come back."

"Why don't you tell us everything, Isane," Unohana said, still sweet and polite but with solid steel in her voice, her underlying tone making it very obvious that she was not pleased with the deception of her fuku-taichou.

Isane was shaking now, sure she was going to be in more trouble than she could even imagine by the time this was all said and done.

"It's—it's not really my story." She looked up, eyes flashing. "And I swore to her—I swore—I would never say a word. I don't want to break that promise, but—"

"It's been eighty years since she left, Kotetsu-san. It doesn't really matter, does it?" Juushirou questioned, perplexed.

"It will when Yamamoto-sou-taichou finds out," she muttered. But she straightened, and they could see the resolve go through her. "He knows part of the story, I'm sure. But he didn't believe her; her mother didn't either."

"About three months before she left for the human world, something had…happened. She wouldn't even tell _me_ everything, but she said she was attacked by a fellow shinigami." She paused, gaining her strength once more. "He raped her."

"He," her voice lowered, "it…he was brutal."

Kyouraku's eyes widened in disbelief then narrowed in anger. All traces of the teasing personality he was known for had fled.

Unohana's own had slipped shut, and she bowed her head.

"Obviously, she never sought treatment. I thought it was odd that she hadn't, but she never explained it and I didn't ask. She was already so upset—hadn't wanted to tell me, really, but she had no choice."

He opened his mouth, but she held her hand up to stop him from asking the question she knew was on the tip of his tongue.

"Before you ask, she couldn't identify him. She didn't even remember at first, but Juro specializes in mind control and memory modification, and he helped her explain the missing time she had experienced. She was devastated, and from what Juro said—of course, Kyouraku-taichou, you know he sees the memories as he works—it was ghastly. Juro said she was—she—she was unconscious at first, and restrained. She didn't even have a chance to fight." She stopped, clearing her throat.

"When she found out she was pregnant, she went into hysterics. Her family had dismissed her version of the story, at least some part of it. I don't know all the details. She wouldn't say what happened, only that she had told her uncle and her mother."

She blushed, embarrassed about the next part.

"She wouldn't even consider having the baby. She feared her uncle's reaction, the father, and just the idea of having that man's baby—it would have crushed her. So she decided to abort."

The men, unused to speaking of such things, would have normally been blushing and moving to excuse themselves from the conversation, except two of them were too upset by what they were hearing and the third too stoic.

"But I was never approached by Minako-san," Unohana said.

"No." Isane blushed, and looked down at her lap again. "We—you see, we had a plan."

Isane could feel the heat of their eyes boring into her, and she finally let loose the emotional storm that had been held at bay by sheer willpower.

"She was never supposed to stay gone!" she said, rushing the words. "She was supposed to get a week in the human world, and then find a doctor that could perform the abortion. After, she was supposed to come back and everything would be fine—no one would have known, and everything could go back to normal!"

"But she never—she never came back! I was so afraid something had gone wrong, but I figured she would have come to me if it had."

"I don't know why she didn't come back," she said quietly.

She was crying now, again, and Unohana turned her back to her, closing her eyes and sitting quietly.

"You should not have kept any of this from me, Isane."

"I know," she sobbed, her tears returning with the loss of her control. "_We _knew. But she was terrified that you would tell Yamamoto-taichou. We didn't know what else to do!"

The men were silent.

"Well, nothing can be done about it now. "

The room was quiet except for the sounds of Isane's continued sobbing, which was now unrelenting. It had been too long since she had been able to unburden herself of the many secrets she held.

"Why did she not tell me? I would have helped her. I never denied anything she asked for." The soft, mournful tone was so atypical of Kyouraku, and it made her sob harder.

"She hid it from everyone after her family's reaction. Only Juro and I knew anything, and that was because she needed our help."

She looked up at him, her eyes glistening through the sheen of tears. Her eyelashes were beginning to stick together, and her face was blotchy and red.

"And you—_you_," she choked, "her _taichou_…she would never disappoint you, and she felt all she had done was disappoint _everyone_, even though it wasn't her fault."

"And then when she did try to get help, _no one would help her_! She—she didn't think you would be like that, but she couldn't be sure—and—"

She sniffed.

"I know it's hard for you to understand. Her mental state—she was not Minako—I—she wouldn't listen to me. She had stopped thinking the way she used to, but—"

She looked at him, her eyes flashing.

"Don't you see? She already had a back-up plan. Otherwise, she would have come to me and we would have figured out something else. I think she _knew_ there was a chance she wouldn't be able to come back. I think—I think something happened, and she had planned to stay in the human world if anything went wrong. I've wondered, since, if it was just too much. I know that the memories plagued her. "

Isane slowly calmed down now that the entire story was finished, sitting miserably behind her taichou. There was very little discussion between the four taichou, all of whom seemed too surprised by the new information to even bother with pleasantries, and the men got up to leave only a few minutes after she was done.

Before they made it to the door, though, she stopped them.

"There's one other thing. I'm not sure it's helpful—"

She glanced at Unohana, knowing she would have much to make up for and this could be the beginning, and then back at them.

"She didn't leave from here. She went to Rukongai first. I—no doubt you know that your two teams tend to know each other well; the two of you spend so much time together, and your officers see each other quite a bit."

She stared at Juushirou. "She went to see your fuku-taichou's sister before she left. She told me she needed to talk to Kuukaku, that they had a mutual friend she knew how to find that Minako wouldn't even hope to find otherwise."

"Yoruichi-san."

"Hai."

The three left quietly, planning their trip to Urahara's human world shop the next day, and a few minutes later, anyone passing the office would have heard Unohana's quiet recrimination of her fuku-taichou.

* * *

A/N: There's not much to say about this chapter, although I would recommend some attention as far as the honorific go. they change frequently depending upon who is talking to whom, who is present, etc. They are very reflective of the relationships between these people and how comfortable they feel around those around them. They will change frequently throughout this story.

If there are any questions about what any honorifics mean, I suggest a very good online Japanese guide to them. There are way too many for me to continually explain.

As for the words that might be new to some of you:

_Sou-taichou_ is Captain-Commander

_Fuku-taichou_ is lieutenant

_Kotatsu_ is a Japanese table, usually used during winter

_Kidou_ or _Kidō _is a form of attack based upon reishi and reiatsu

_Reishi_ is spirit particles or power, in the simplest explanation

_Reiatsu_ is spirit pressure

_Tozanshō_ is a kidou spell (can be found at the Bleach wiki)

_Hai_ is yes

_Yare_ or _Yare, yare_ is an expression, sort of like "my, my"

_Sensei_ is usually used referring to a teacher

_Bankai_ is, as you should all know, an ultimate attack for shinigami

If I missed any, I'm sorry! I tried to catch all of them. You can always message me if you have any questions.

The next chapter should be posted within the next week. I'm going to try to stick to one or two a week and keep them steady!


	3. Chapter 2

A/N: I'm not going to keep repeating all the earlier information. Everything pertinent was included in the Prologue and Chapter 1.

Except, I did have a question about the title from someone that reads this for me before I post and figured I would explain. "The Noble Sort" refers to Minako's mother, Arisu. Arisu means "the noble sort." It's referring to Minako's lineage as a shinigami and a woman.

I'm gonna give it till about chapter 6-if no one's interested on certain sites I'll probably pull the story. But if I do I'll make sure to post links in my profile to sites where there are actually readers. It does me no good to have to post to four alternate sites when there are only people interested at two of them. It takes an average of thirty minutes a site for editing and everything, and if no one is reading I'm wasting my own time.

Enjoy!

* * *

"The Noble Sort"

* * *

_There was only pain._

_She was so tired of waking up like this—how many times could it be now? Would it ever end? Was anyone looking for her? How long had she been here?_

_The strange woman approached again, and the feeling of wrongness intensified. She had never been so scared in her life, and this strange person was making the sheer terror she felt multiply._

"_Awake, Minako-san?" the woman said liltingly, and she could swear she knew the voice, but it didn't belong to the woman, and no one with black hair. Another color was superimposing onto the black, but she shook her head and knew it just wasn't possible—wasn't feasible._

_He raised something up into the air, and the harsh light glinted off of metal._

_Her zanpakutou._

_He slowly slid the blade out of the hilt, and she watched as he threw the hilt to the floor—that'smine,youbitch,mine—_

_A hand rested on her abdomen, and she felt a strange reiatsu building inside her. It made her itch, inside, and the burning was unbelievable. It felt like every organ she had had tightened up, had shriveled to make room for this new presence in her body._

_The woman—man?—raised the blade above her, and before she could even contemplate the fact that he was going to stab her with her own blade, it was done._

_She heard the whoosh of air a blade makes during the swing only after she felt it imbedded in her stomach._

_Fire spread throughout her body as her nerves worked overtime, sending out the 'pain' signal. It hurt, it always hurt to be run through, but this felt worse._

_She waited, not able to breathe due to the immense pain, to hear the sucking noise that came with pulling a sword out of someone's body. It was as if the body was pressurized, and removing the blade once it was in caused a release of pressure._

_She never heard it; instead, she saw him push the blade in further._

_She couldn't feel the slide of metal, at all, she could only see the blade continue to disappear into her body, until only the hilt was visible, and then it, too, disappeared._

_After that, all she saw was red._

Minako sat up quickly, breathing harshly. The sheets were twisted around her body, her thick duvet thrown off the end of the bed entirely. Ruri or Kiri, one of them, was standing at the foot of the bed, prepared to jump down and seek safety somewhere else.

In the dim light that was filtering in from the hallway—one light always had to be on—she could see herself reflected in the large mirror across the room. She was flushed, sweaty, dark hair mussed and tangled.

Her eyes darted to the clock on the dresser; 3:42.

It was still very early.

Once she had calmed down enough that her legs weren't shaking, she slid out of the large bed and almost ran to the light switch, her body and mind begging for light to flood the room. Thank the Kami the man she had over early that evening—one of _those _types of friends—was long gone. It would've been a major problem for him to have seen her freak out.

Once light flooded the room she felt ten times better, as if the light coming from the small bulb could chase away not only the shadow but the memory itself. She knew it wasn't true, but that was always how it felt, as if the memories lurked in the corners with the shadow, waiting to grab her and pull her back into her own personal hell.

_This is all their fault!_

If they hadn't come back now, it would still be buried. She had gotten over this years ago, and she wasn't in the mood to have it dredged up just because of her uncle. This was her first dream in years, especially of _that_.

It had taken years of time, crying, and emotional fortitude to get over what had happened, to make peace with the situation and finally accept that this was her life now. And then in just a few hours, it had all been undone.

She was back at point A when she had been so far that point A wasn't even visible anymore.

It was maddening.

And the dreams—they had always been the worst. You couldn't control them like you could regular dreams, and the pain—the pain was like being there again. It was unbelievable that her body and mind could remember exactly how it felt, that first time, but it remembered every single sensation, right down to the numbness she had felt in her fingertips when the blade had been shoved into her body.

Her gaze shifted from unfocused to sharp, staring straight at her zanpakutou.

It was right there, mere feet away, stuffed between her bed and the small table in the corner. She rarely touched it, nowadays, unless someone wanted to do some sparring. Most days he let her know how unhappy he was about it, but thankfully the sword spirit had understood how broken she had been. How scared and angry she had felt.

She really owed the poor thing; perhaps once the three taichou sent after her were gone from the human realm she would take Hiyori or Lisa up on one of the many training invitations they kept giving her.

_Then again, maybe not. It was never fun being the Visored punching bag._

She sighed, pushing off the wall she had been leaning against in her relief that the dark was gone, and made her way down the small hall, shaking hands trying to redo the now-sloppy ponytail. She must have been thrashing quite a bit to pull that much hair out of the elastic.

Sleep wouldn't be happening after that, something she knew well from the years where this was a common occurrence. If she tried to go back to bed she would only lay there staring at the ceiling and jumping at every noise she heard. The only thing she could do now was get a cup of tea and keep calm until she saw the guys at lunchtime.

Urahara had promised to explain the vague phone call, and she wanted all the information she could get.

* * *

"Eh? Minako, you can't be serious?"

The slim Japanese woman slammed her hand down onto the table, rattling Shinji's cup.

"Of course I'm serious, baka! They just showed up yesterday." She was quiet for a moment, her hand supporting her chin with her elbow resting on the table.

"I'd just like to know _why_. I was under the impression everyone here had been forgotten. Other than the obvious, of course."

"Ah, Minako-san, according to our latest visitors, they were sent by Yamamoto-taichou himself. You are to be part of the defending force in the upcoming war against Aizen." Urahara grinned.

Her glare darkened.

"I don't fucking think so."

Both males stared at her, startled. She was not, usually, profane, although it had gotten worse during her time in the human realm. If she was dropping curse words in conversation, though, the situation was bothering her more than she was letting on.

"That wouldn't be all. It's never that simple with oji-san."

Her face lightened for a moment and she took on a demonic, mischievous expression. There was a freaky light in her eyes, and both men resisted the instinctual urge to back away.

"Although I _would_ enjoy getting a hit in on Aizen. And Ichimaru. Always knew Sousuke was a slimy bastard; he's just proved it."

Shinji nodded.

"You're sure they didn't follow you, right, Urahara?"

"Of course, Minako-san. I would not have called you otherwise."

She nodded, her eyes losing focus as she stared off in thought. She wasn't 'gone' long before she nodded to herself, shoulder straightening and a new resolve lighting her eyes.

"Well, don't do it again unless necessary. Not that I don't like seeing you two," she grinned, "but I don't want them to get the slightest scent of me. I'll keep a low profile and stay out of contact until they give up."

"Not too eager to meet up with your former _taichou_?" Shinji said, needling her.

"I actually wouldn't mind seeing Kyouraku-taichou. But I'm not going back if I can help it. Not after all this time. What would be waiting for me—a jail cell? Execution?" She scoffed.

"Besides," she jerked her head at Urahara, "no matter what he's done, it's still not stable. I would be useless in a battle against the Arrancar. I could end up getting myself killed on accident just because I have no idea what I'm capable of. I don't know the limit."

"Only 'cause you haven't trained with it, dumbass," Shinji said, making a face at her.

"Not everyone can just out-train their problems," she shot back at him. "I'm not a Visored."

"Thank God," he muttered.

She felt the same way, although she wouldn't voice that opinion in front of the prickly blonde. All she needed was someone to overhear, like Hiyori, and then she would once again be a shinigami punching bag.

"Besides, I've tried. And twice was enough to get the point—I won't use it unless absolutely necessary."

"It might not get easier, Minako-san, but you might be able to…adjust to it," Urahara said liltingly.

"I don't want to get used to it. I'm trying to forget about it. I don't need Bankai anyway, not here. And there's no way I'll be able to be a shinigami again, so it doesn't matter. It's moot."

She glanced down at her watch and goggled at the time. It felt like they had only been sitting at the table minutes, but apparently lunch had taken them longer than she thought.

"Shit. I have to be at work in 45 minutes." She jumped up from the table, gathering the small pile of belongings that had dumped out of her purse at some point during their argument, and made to leave.

"Maa, why do ya work? So _human_."

"Because, Shinji," she snorted, "some of us are trying to _blend in_. Ba-ka."

She jogged out of the door, and they could hear her footsteps as she stomped down the metallic stairs that led to the warehouse's office.

"Wear your hair down!" Shinji shouted after her. "No one will ever know it's you then! You'll look decent!"

He shook his head, tsking at the woman that had just left. She was a pain, but at least she wasn't like the others. _Normal_ shinigami. She had been a friend before, and she hadn't even blinked when she saw their new forms. She just took it all in stride.

She wasn't one of them, something the others made certain she knew—except Lisa, who was weird anyway—but she wasn't as bad. Like a lesser evil. And she was helpful when they needed certain things from the human world.

"They sent three taichou after her? Unbelievable."

Urahara grinned at him.

"I know. One would've been enough—she won't even consider going past the third gate."

"Ya think she'll show?"

"I imagine so." Urahara face darkened for a moment. "We will need all the power we can get."

"You didn't tell 'em where they could find her, did ya? She'll kick your ass if you did."

He feigned disbelief, something Shinji ignored. "Of course not!" He paused, whipping out his fan and fluttering in front of his face, letting the suspense build. "Although I might have given them a clue or two. It pays to seem useful."

Shinji snorted.

Suddenly, though, his body slumped, and he looked sheepish.

"Of course, I'm not sure how much help it will be. There are hundreds of stores she could be working at here, and she does still look the same. Mostly."

Both men stared at the table, lost in thought.

"Besides, according to what they have told me, she's not in trouble, _exactly_. I'm sure jii-jii is going to have a…few words…to say about her disappearance. But I don't think she's going to prison."

After a few moments, Shinji looked up slowly, his gaze resting on the other man.

"You think they need to know, then? I mean, if you're just handin' out hints and all…"

"It is not so much that I wish to see Minako-san captured, since we still cannot be sure they won't imprison her; they have been at the store for the past day and I have not told them where she was."

He paused, considering his statement.

"I think…I think Yamamoto-san needs to see the entirety of the situation—everything that has gone on the past century, much of which he had no—what he didn't know about," he said carefully. "Without all the information, I'm not sure we have a chance of winning this war."

Shinji nodded, a faraway look on his face.

"And I think she deserves the same chance we will all get in the end, the same chance Yoruichi-san and I have had—she should get to see the ones she left behind."

"An' if she doesn't get captured, you think she'll run. Afterwards," Shinji said, finally catching what Urahara was saying.

"Most likely. As will those she protects."

Shinji agreed with Urahara, at least on some level. It had been a sore point with the dozens of shinigami forced to live in the human world; many of them had people they missed. Many of them were upset about the fact that Aizen had always been seen as innocent and hard-working; Aizen had always been believed while all of them were considered untrustworthy. It didn't matter what he was accused of because, in the end, Central took his side.

If Central had known the Visoreds were only one of his experiments; if they only knew how many he had hurt and forced to defect—or die—to protect their secrets—but it still wouldn't have gone differently with Central presiding over Seireitei.

If Yamamoto only knew of those just as dangerous as Aizen, right under his nose all the time.

Yes, some of the time he had made sure it appeared he was in another place, creating an alibi for himself using his zanpakutou's powers. But if the command of a military eventually got so many complaints against a man, did they not have some sort of responsibility to investigate?

Even worse was the fact that each one of his experiments had been deemed "harmful" and were usually scheduled for execution or imprisonment. Just like the Visoreds. Central was not protecting its own in these cases, it was hushing up what had happened.

For years Shinji had wondered what made Aizen so much more believable than taichou, than other fuku-taichou, even than the sou-taichou's niece. Of course, he had no idea who had been the actual perpetrator—it was information Minako kept very secret—but everyone knew it had to be tied to Aizen somehow. Everything for the past century had been in some way.

He had finally decided that it wasn't Aizen's believability that was the problem, it was Central. Things seemed to have gotten better without Central operating—the past few times someone had been accused of treason, betrayal, etc. the sou-taichou had listened to the circumstances and made what seemed to be logical conclusions, even if his legendary anger had spiked at first.

Everything was easier without Central, although it placed all the power into one man's hands, which was not what they had wanted.

Still, Shinji didn't care; when the legal process in Seireitei was working, anything was an improvement. All he needed to back that statement up were the numerous shinigami hidden in the human world that had been failed by Central.

He was only one of over a dozen. And that was just what he knew of; he could only imagine the many he had never heard of.

And he knew that, no matter what else came out, Aizen was dead. But it wasn't fair that no one else understood everything, no one had pieced it all together and seen exactly how horrible the man had really been, how horrible many of the shinigami were.

If it took a well-placed word to get it taken care of, he would do it himself.

* * *

She was twirling a long piece of black hair with her right hand, all of her focus on the voice coming through the phone. As soon as she had gotten home from work she began the tedious chore of calling back those who had left her voicemails, which could sometimes take hours. Not everyone lived in Japan anymore and time zones had to be taken into account.

She rarely called them nowadays. Ever since Aizen had put his plan into motion, they had all been jumpy about the slightest difference. Silence had seemed to be the best choice in this situation, the only way to protect everyone in case someone was found or captured.

It meant that they wouldn't all get caught.

Unfortunately, Shinji and Urahara were breaking all the rules, gallivanting around Karakura, talking to old friends, even letting shinigami see them. It wasn't something they were used to, this cavalier attitude about being found. Shinigami in the human world tended to be secretive, unseen, and hid in the background.

It was much more dangerous if they were found.

"_You there, Minako?"_

She 'hmm-ed' at the person on the line, and the voice immediately went back into the long story about their newest child, a small infant barely old enough to sit up.

So many of them had been exiled. Defected. Left.

Most of them had moved on, not even caring what went on in the shinigami world. Many of the defected shinigami she knew—the network was large and always in contact in some way, even during times of communication silence, especially with e-mail—had moved on, become human as far as their daily lives went.

Even she had to a point, although she was much more like Urahara, staying somewhat involved. Waiting and watching. Human on the outside, still shinigami inside.

She sat up quickly, a thought coming to her. She cut off the other person's story with a shout.

"_What?"_

"Rin, are you gonna get involved in this?"

"_Um, no. I don't think so."_

Why not? Don't you feel the need to?"

There was a very loud laugh on the other end of the phone.

She didn't care that Rin was laughing about it, but she was genuinely curious. She had never asked her friend what her position on this whole situation was.

"_No! They didn't care about me, I don't care about them. It won't affect me all the way over here for a while if he's successful anyway."_

"Maybe," she muttered, her doubt obvious.

"_You should've stayed here. Still don't understand why you moved back in the first place."_

She had asked herself that same question a million times, but the answer was always the same: she didn't know why. Something had just told her it was time to go back to Japan.

"_You're not thinking of getting involved, I hope?"_

"I might not have a choice. And I think—I think I would anyway."

That was really what it boiled down to, in the end. The choice to stay out of the coming conflict might not even be something she got. And she might make the same decision if given that choice.

"_You have a choice. You can leave whenever you want."_

"And go where? There?"

"_If you need to. We have enough room. I can always use a babysitter, you know."_

They both laughed.

"_Besides, Minako, I've got kids to think about now. Who'll raise these three, their father? I don't think so. He's worse than they are."_

"You married him."

To be fair, they fit together well. It hadn't surprised her at all when they finally announced their marriage, although she had thought it was a bad idea to have two exiled shingami so close to each other. Especially with their situation.

And bringing kids into it? Sheesh.

"What about your husband? If he wanted to—"

"_I would let him, of course. But he feels the same way. We're done with that life now."_

They had all thought they had been forgotten, had moved on with their lives until the last few months. Until Aizen had to stir the pot and put the focus on those who had betrayed Seireitei or just left. With one betrayal came thoughts of those who had come before, something no exile wanted.

"_What about the others?"_

She snorted.

"Which ones? There are so many nowadays I can't keep up with them."

"_Not the originals. Not even Urahara. Yours."_

She stiffened then immediately relaxed, cautious about someone seeing her reaction even if she was alone. That was all she needed, shinigami finding out how the entire network operated. Then they would all fall apart.

"Some have already come forward. Three or four of them want to play a part, but most of the ones I keep in contact with are staying out of it. They're like you."

"_Smart people—not the ones getting involved, of course, the ones steering clear of the mess. I imagine Akane's already made her enthusiasm for a fight obvious?"_

"Of course," she said dryly, "she wouldn't miss a fight for the world, especially if she can cut through a swath of Hollow _and_ shinigami. That would make her day. I'll have to watch her closely."

"_Or you could just leave her be. Let her do her own thing. Get away from the situation."_

"Eh."

"_You should just leave. Let them handle their own problems."_

"Yeah, probably," she said, although they both knew she wouldn't.

"_I just—I have a bad feeling about all this. You really shouldn't get involved."_

"You and me both," she said, her voice low and ominous.

* * *

A/N: Japanese usage information (for words that haven't been used until this chapter):

_Visored_ is Vizard, just as Kubo spelled it in the Character Book

_Maa_ is an expression that doesn't have a true equivalent, but I think the meaning is somewhat evident


	4. Chapter 3

A/N: I'm not going to keep repeating all the earlier information. Everything pertinent was included in the Prologue and Chapter 1.

Enjoy!

* * *

"The Noble Sort"

* * *

_Six Days Later_

Minako looked around the crowded street in front of _Umeboshi_. She didn't see anyone that stood out, no white hair or very tall Spanish-looking guys, but that didn't mean they weren't there. She wished she could remember what Kuchiki looked like, but he had been young and not someone she knew.

The Yamamoto clan, while powerful, was not part of the nobility. They didn't pretend to be, and the noble clans didn't pretend to take notice of them unless they needed a marriage that gave them power. But there were only three Yamamoto left and none appropriate for marriage when she left, therefore the invitations had been few and far between.

She hadn't let her guard down since she had heard they were in town, but it didn't matter. They were taichou, after all. They could be on her before she even knew it. And she—in her gigai—was at a distinct disadvantage, not being able to use the skills she was once so proud of.

She had briefly considered calling in to work, just staying home and riding it out, but she wasn't going to let them disrupt her life. Plus, she had bills to pay; the house might have been paid off but living in the city meant an apartment and she had to pay for it somehow. She needed the job. It sucked, but money was money and the smaller places didn't ask inconvenient questions.

It had really sucked this week. Her normal paranoia had skyrocketed with the news that there were taichou looking for her. Everyone in black was suspect for the first two days and she had spilled at least three drinks on customers due to her jumpy behavior.

Her boss had taken her to task for it, something she didn't really care about.

She was too busy thinking about more important things than the guy with sake on his crotch.

_Why now_ kept running through her head. Sure, there was the Aizen thing—_bastard_—but that didn't really seem to add up. If oji-san was worried that he would need a defected shinigami for the battle, he was in more trouble than she could possibly pull him out of.

And he had never come after her before. That first month or so, of course, had been full of patrols trying to find her, or her body, or some sign of what had happened. When there was nothing, they assumed she had defected and stopped searching.

The day she realized—

She couldn't describe the confusion of emotion.

It was happiness, sadness, heartbreak, elation, everything rolled together. She was ecstatic that they wouldn't know what was going on, but it broke her heart that they didn't even care to know why. It was like being forgotten after death, most likely—there was no use for their remembrance of you but the idea that someone was missing you had to be comforting.

By then she knew that she wasn't pregnant, as there was no extra little bump on her tummy. But the strange reiatsu was still present, and Urahara had been hard at work trying to figure out what the hell had gone on. And Yoruichi had been there with her through every step of it, thank the Kami. It took quite a bit of time to get over everything. She was never truly alone, ever.

Then she had been introduced to the others, people she had known but thought dead, and she knew she could be content here. So she stayed, and made a life for herself. Speaking of…

She was supposed to head to Shinji's after work, but not only did she not feel like it, she was too afraid to go near anyone that could possibly lead them to her. She didn't think Shinji and his group had let the majority of the shinigami know about their existence—other than the one ningen—if he could really be called that from what she had heard about him—and some of his friends—but she wasn't taking any chances.

After all, it would only take them following Urahara one time and then she and Shinji's group were all screwed. It was better to stay away, for everyone concerned.

Lisa knew where she lived. She could pop in anytime. She had no wish to see any other Visored on a regular basis, not even Shinji. A little Shinji went a long way nowadays.

The trip home was quick, thankfully, although she was continually looking over her shoulder and down the alleys to see if any of her stalkers were near.

But her plan of going straight to bed after a shower was shot down when she recognized a fairly nasty odor in her apartment. Either Ruri or Kiri had thrown up a hairball.

_Why cats?_

It was a recurring lamentation in her now-dull life. One her sword spirit loved to repeat.

It took a few minutes, but she eventually found it; clean up was a cinch.

She made sure they had food and water, took a long, hot shower, and curled up in her very large bed. The sheets were soft and cool, her pillow fluffy, and it felt divine. After the week she'd had, she deserved it.

Across the large town of Karakura, three men were having very different thoughts.

They had indeed been staying near Urahara, but only just. They weren't following him, and they really weren't suspicious of him.

Of course, they all knew that he had more information than he let on, but there was no way to force him to give any of it up. The only thing he had told them was that she worked in a restaurant and she looked almost exactly like she did when she left. It really wasn't a lot to go on, they knew. No one had expected anything more.

But they had been here six days already and had nothing. Byakuya had gone back for a few hours three days ago, giving the sou-taichou an update. While the straight-laced taichou had hated the subterfuge, he just gave the basic information they had gotten and left Isane out of it. They would leave that all to Unohana.

They were, at present, sitting on the porch of Urahara's shop, quiet and lost in their own thoughts.

Byakuya was ruminating on the assignment, not the least bit interested in anything past getting the woman to return to Seireitei.

Juushirou was worrying about Kyouraku, who seemed to be taking everything badly at this point. He couldn't blame his friend, really. If it had been his fuku-taichou—well, he would be the same. It was hard enough when he thought he had lost his second fuku-taichou so soon, and to something as stupid as betrayal of the Gōtei 13. Knowing he had lost his subordinate to something he had not been able to protect her from seemed to be eating at the man.

Juushirou could remember Minako quite well, and it hurt even him that such a thing had happened to the woman. She had always been sweet and polite, if a bit too playful. It was to be expected with Kyouraku as her taichou.

When she had been a girl, she had idolized them. They were the famed students of her Gen-oji-san, and she always had a smile or treat for them. He well remembered the many evenings she had sat on a porch similar to this, watching as Genryuusai-sensei beat them over and over in sparring matches. By that point they were already fully shinigami, but they were always "his students" to the young girl.

Momo-chan. That was what Genryuusai-sensei had always called her. He remembered she hated the nickname.

He had mental pictures of Genryuusai-sensei and the small girl, his brother's very young child. She was scowling at her beloved uncle as he ruffled her hair and presented her with a new doll, a small replica of a female shinigami. Or she was looking at him in awe as he motioned her out to the training area behind his family home and showed her how to properly execute a kata they had been working on. Or, on one occasion, when she was older, she was being dragged forcibly through the Seireitei by her uncle due to something she had done, the idea most likely taken from her taichou, who had always been right behind her—or in front of her—in her antics. She was as bad as he was, if not worse.

And Kyouraku was thinking about exactly what Ukitake had presumed. He had been in a black mood—well, black for him—since they had left the Fourth Division. He had, at first, blamed himself. But once the irrational blame had passed, the anger had built. He was angry that she had not come to him; he would have helped her.

He was angry at Yama-jii for not protecting her or listening to her. He was angry at himself for not pushing her when he realized how upset she had been.

There were a thousand what-ifs running through his mind.

Mostly, though, he was angry at whoever had dared touch one of his subordinates, especially in such a manner. Shunsui would be the first to admit he had a, well, reputation for being perverted. And a womanizer. But certain things weren't acceptable under any circumstances, and forcing a woman was just plain unacceptable.

That they would dare to touch one of his, that just set him to boiling. It had been hard enough losing Lisa-chan, but at least once he knew she was alive he also had a good idea that she would be safer in the human realm. In the Seireitei, all that had awaited her was death. So he had allowed everything to happen just the way it did, not interfering at all.

But Minako-chan? The fact that someone would attack her in such a way—obviously not fearing his or Yama-jii's potential retaliation—it floored him.

Nevermind Minako's own retaliation if she had found out who it was. He would have been right there with her, holding the guy down as she stabbed him.

She was a Yamamoto, and their tempers were always a force to be reckoned with. No one had ever doubted that.

He left his eyes flutter closed briefly, composing himself.

He had questions, and to get the answers, he had to track down Minako-chan. He needed to focus on that.

All three men stiffened when a figure stepped out of the shadows across the road; hands flexed, itching to go for zanpakutou. But none moved; they were not in gigai, so most likely the person could not see them. If it was just a random human the person would continue on their way soon having never seen them.

Except he stepped surely across the road, purposefully coming to a stop about fifteen feet in front of them.

The light from inside the shop was glaring on the tan hood the figure wore, but it was dark enough that they couldn't make out his or her face.

"Taichou-san," the strange greeted politely. "Hajimemashite."

They were silent.

The stranger cleared his throat—it was definitely a he—and waited impatiently.

"Who are you," Byakuya asked, his voice as calm as ever. But Kyouraku noticed his hand had drifted to his zanpakutou. The fact that the stranger knew they were shinigami, and taichou, had obviously put him on his guard.

"I am—let's just say we have a mutual acquaintance." The stranger's glittering eyes flicked to the building behind them before once again resting on the three before him.

The three taichou immediately knew they were speaking with a shinigami—former shinigami—and felt the tension in the air rise. This was one of the many exiles they were supposed to arrest on site, but none moved to do so as they were too intensely focused on his words.

"Indeed."

"I believe we have, ah… another mutual acquaintance." He stopped, looking directly at Kyouraku long enough to make sure everyone knew he was speaking to the taichou of the Eighth division specifically. "Someone you are eager to meet with."

His words got their attention, though; all three sat up straighter.

"Yamamoto Minako, yes?"

Kyouraku and Ukitake both nodded, suspicious but not willing to turn away any information at this point, no matter who it came from.

"I know where you can find her."

Kyouraku raised his head, allowing the stranger to finally see the face underneath the sakkat.

"Aa. And why would you give us this information, eh?" Kyouraku asked, still highly suspicious of the person in front of him.

"Perhaps some of us feel the entire story needs to be known. There is more behind her disappearance than you can possibly imagine." He stopped, kicking at a rock with his shoe. "It might even be very important in the big battle you're getting ready to fight."

Variations of intent passed across all three taichou's faces. It was obvious Kuchiki felt like fighting now and asking questions later, while the other two were too focused on the information they had been looking for all week to even think about battling the exile.

"Perhaps not. Perhaps I just think that she should be allowed to return. Perhaps I think she has always _wanted _to return. And the only way that will ever happen is if you drag her back there."

"So, how can we find her, then?" Kyouraku asked, eyes gleaming.

"Have you ever heard of _Umeboshi_?" The stranger's straight white teeth, almost unnatural and definitely tugging at Ukitake and Kyouraku's memories, gleamed in the light. "The service is shit, but the food is definitely worth it."

* * *

_Two Days Later_

It had, once again, been a horrible day.

Minako wondered to herself for the thousandth time why she hadn't quit yet, found a job somewhere else, but let it go. It was most likely all the stress getting to her.

Of course, the situation was improving. Her paranoia was starting to subside as the amount of time she lived knowing they were here but not _here_, in her general vicinity, increased.

She had now been 'taichou-free' for almost 8 days, though, so she was feeling a little better.

It was somewhat amazing to her as well. Surely they should have found her by now. Even with the special gigai—_thank you, Urahara!_—they should have been able to find her.

Unless they weren't really trying, which was a definite possibility. She imagined that being tasked with bringing back the sou-taichou's errant niece was not a glorious assignment for any taichou. Much less three of them; it was insulting to them and overestimating her own power.

Of course, they had no idea of the myriad ways they could have very easily found her in the human world, where finding someone was a multi-billion dollar business. The internet. Private eyes. Tax records, not that she paid them regularly. Even census records would have given them some head start. But they wouldn't have had any idea where to begin researching in the human world, which was a definite plus for her.

_Thank Kami they don't know what a phone book is,_ she thought.

It would be only too easy to find Yamamoto Momo in there, although they would never even think of checking it. They had probably never even heard of it. And they would have had to remember her nickname, although she didn't put it past either of oji-san's students.

In the end, though, their inexperience here was all the better for her.

She allowed her hands to fall away from her face and land palm down on the counter, her exasperation plain. She turned to the smaller woman a few feet away and cleared her throat.

"Keiko, I think I'm going to head home now."

"Sure, Minako. We're not busy; I don't think we'll need you this afternoon. Sorry about that—I really thought, with the festival and everything, that we would need the extra help."

She took off her apron, folding it into a perfect square before stashing it under the counter that separated the customer area from the employee area.

"It's no problem! Honestly, I could use the hours but I need the sleep. I think I'm becoming an insomniac!"

Both girls laughed.

"I totally understand! Just don't forget to call in the next two days—hopefully I can get the schedule finished for next week."

She nodded and exited the small restaurant to the chorus of "Sayonara" from Keiko and the other waitress, Yumi.

She did a cursory sweep of the road in front of and behind her, not seeing anything out of the ordinary. The plaza up ahead, not even a block away, was what really worried her. It was the perfect place for someone to catch her unawares.

She just tightened her jacket around her shoulders and got going. There was no sense in standing there and trying to check each and every face in the crowd. If they were hiding there she wouldn't know it, and hopefully they wouldn't be able to find her once she slipped in amongst the throng of people.

She was right; no one stopped her in or outside of the plaza, and she made it all the way home quite easily.

As soon as she stepped through her front door she checked her messages; she never took her cell phone to work, preferring to leave it at home. It was silly, she knew, but it stopped the temptation to answer it when someone called.

Ruri and Kiri were nowhere to be seen—the ingrates—but she did have a message from Hiyori, something about training together this weekend.

Like hell. She liked her ribs where they were. Last time she was sure the girl had moved three of them. The small woman had been extremely pissed at the entirety of 'shinigami-dom' for something and took it out on her favorite representation of everything shinigami: herself. Most likely the situation was the same.

Plus, she was way too tired.

She could hear Shinji in the background, no doubt taunting the woman, and she laughed. They were the craziest pair she had ever met.

There was another message from her landlord, saying he was finally going to fix the elevator in the building and he was letting all tenants know there would be a crew in on Thursday and Friday.

"Yeah, we'll see how that goes," she muttered. "We've been complaining about it for weeks now. Climbing those stairs has worked muscles I didn't know I had."

The final message was from Mori, her own serving of his anger when he found out how long she and Rin had been on the phone. He always bitched about the bill after they talked, although she knew it was more a front than anything. He had never stopped them from their long talks, even when the long-distance call would be expensive.

He also entreated her to leave Japan as soon as possible, even going so far as to echo Rin's invitation to stay with them in the States. It was a little amazing, but desperate times and all that.

They were the only ones, besides Lisa and her own 'children' on the network, that she continued to talk to regularly. They were too important to cut out of her life.

She double checked that she had locked the door, as if it would do her any good if three shinigami came knocking, and then moved from the living room into the kitchen. She was not even a foot out of the living room when she felt a tremendous flare of reiatsu.

The world narrowed, as did her vision. She could see someone coming down the hall—she didn't recognize him at all—and she could see Ukitake-taichou seated at her small kitchen table, unfortunately not visible from her front door.

Her breathing sped up with her heartbeat, and a thousand different scenarios, many featuring escape, ran through her head.

She knew it wouldn't work. She couldn't hope to outrun three taichou; even with her spiritual pressure hidden and making tracking her exceptionally hard, there was no way she would even make it to the door.

Her zanpakutou was down the hall in her bedroom, no longer a constant companion in a world where swords meant you got arrested, and the dark-haired taichou was blocking her access. Although, even with Hidaruma, she was probably still toast.

_Kuchiki-taichou. That's right. At least now I have a face for the name._

Ukitake-taichou was smiling.

She had to have entered an alternate reality of some sort when she entered the kitchen. Perhaps a different dimension? One of those overlap things the physicists were always theorizing about on the public access shows?

She felt a flare of reiatsu once again, this time double what had been present earlier, and all thought fled in the face of terror—she was going to rot in an underground prison cell, she just _knew it_, even if Ukitake-taichou was smiling.

Maybe he was smiling about her finally getting "locked up?"

But awareness was pressing down on her wandering thoughts—_that's what terror does, Minako, makes your mind wander_—and she snapped fully back into reality.

That reiatsu.

_Oh, shit_.

She didn't even need to turn around, although she wondered how he had gotten behind her; she would recognize that reiatsu anywhere.

Kyouraku-taichou had found her.

* * *

A/N: The Japanese Vocabulary lesson for the chapter:

_Kami_ is god(s)

_Umeboshi_ is a plum treat, good name for a restaurant

_Hajimemashite_ is "nice to meet you" or similar

_Momo-chan_ means "little peach"

_Sayonara_ is "bye"

_Sakkat_ is the hat Kyouraku wears, just in case I haven't explained that one yet

As always, if there are any questions feel free to ask me. I have no problems answering them.


	5. Chapter 4

A/N: I'm not going to keep repeating all the earlier information. Everything pertinent was included in the Prologue and Chapter 1.

I am sorry that it has taken so long to post these. Most of this story is written; the week or so between updates is my time to edit and make sure I haven't left any glaring holes in the story. But these past two weeks have been incredibly busy: my birthday, my sister's birthday, job interviews, prep for the GRE, and even a small contract job I've been doing the past week. Today is the first time I've been in front of my computer for more than five minutes in weeks. I'll try to never skip updates, but sometimes RL interferes.

Enjoy! And please, R & R! I'm not a review hog, but I post this on four different sites. If it isn't being read on one of them I'm going to take it down to save myself some time. Updating on four sites with two chapters takes hours of formatting.

* * *

"The Noble Sort"

* * *

_She didn't even need to turn around; she would recognize that reiatsu anywhere._

_Kyouraku-taichou had found her._

Everyone was silent. She could swear she felt three pairs of eyes burning into her. Her hands slowly came up, away from her sides, palms facing forward, in a position that made it obvious she wouldn't be fighting them. It was the universal "I'm harmless."

Or "I surrender." It worked either way, really.

"Aa, Minako-chan, it's been a long time." His voice was like silk on skin and in her terror it made her heart beat that much faster. He only spoke like that when he was _pissed_. It was rare to hear it, but she knew she would never forget that tone.

"Yes," she croaked, still petrified. At least he had stopped leaking reiatsu all over the place. "Are you here to arrest me?"

Ukitake-taichou's eyes widened comically, and his smile disappeared. _Maybe I'll just be under house arrest for a few centuries, then, not in jail, _she thought.

Now would be the time to be very happy about there being a positive change in her future circumstances, but she couldn't bring herself to feel one iota of joy. Not while three taichou were sitting in her tiny apartment, reiatsu still bearing down on her in a way she hadn't felt in decades.

"Of course not, Minako-chan. We're here to have a little chat," she heard her taichou say, the whimsical playfulness he was known for entering his speech. She could hear the steel, though, and knew he wasn't playing around.

"A—a chat?" she muttered. "I was under the impression you were here to take me to Seireitei."

There was still no way out of this. Her gaze flicked over to the man on her right, still blocking her hallway. He was standing there purposefully, so he most likely knew her zanpakutou was in her bedroom. All exits were still blocked.

If she could pull the tension level down, though, and perhaps diffuse the situation just a little bit…

"Can I—" she stopped, and cleared her throat. "Can I move?"

"Oh! She's right, Kyouraku!" Ukitake-taichou stood up, smiling once again. "Here we are, invading your house, and not even letting you out of the hall. Maybe we could go into your living room, then?"

She nodded, watching as he stood from his position at her table. It would have been funny at any other time, this very tall man crammed beneath her tiny café table. It had been a present but wasn't the most practical of furniture.

Furniture. She was thinking of furniture…

"It was terribly rude of us, I know, Minako-san, but we had no choice."

Did he think she cared about rudeness right now?

Then her brain kicked in, and she was turning slowly, seeing her taichou for the first time in almost eighty years.

To anyone else he would have looked normal, maybe even happy. She had known him too long, though, to not be able to read the subtle signs. He was pissed. His sakkat wasn't in front of his face, he wasn't actually smiling, and he was leaning against her door without actually _leaning_, something she once believed he had perfected to torment his subordinates on the rare occasion they did something he wasn't happy with.

It was a tell you learned early in the Eighth; if he looked like he was holding up a wall but _wasn't_, you ran for your life. You had done something that got the most laid back taichou of the Gōtei 13 upset so all bets were off. Your ass would be roasted soon.

Everyone thought he was so carefree, so _unconcerned._ They were wrong—they just didn't know him like his division did.

She kept her hands up and out, clearly visible, as she moved to one of the very large chairs against the closest wall. Ukitake-taichou had acted surprised about the idea of arrest, but she wasn't chancing it.

Ukitake-taichou stepped around her, shooting her another dazzling smile, and took a seat on her beige couch.

The stoic man in her hall moved toward the living room, barely stepping in and positioning himself next to her television. It was obvious that "getting comfortable" was just an empty phrase at this point; they were still making sure all avenues of escape were closed off.

Her taichou stepped forward, sidling to the left and taking a seat on the small wooden chest that served as a window seat for Ruri and Kiri. She worried his weight might break it, but she didn't dare say that to him.

She worried her lower lip, and her hands were very deliberately placed palm down on the arms of the chair. She wanted them visible at all times; all she needed was an accidental movement gaining her a kidō binding. If they saw that freak out she would never recover from the humiliation.

"Yare, yare, Minako-chan. You're a difficult person to find."

A small smile broke through, but it was only visible for a moment.

"You trained me well, taichou."

A look passed across his face at that, a shadow of the anger he was hiding under his carefree exterior. She knew her comment was bringing up memories better left buried, but she couldn't help it. It felt _natural_, like it hadn't been eighty years since she had called him that.

"Do you know why we are here?" It was the first time she had heard this unknown taichou speak; it was obvious he was nobility. He had that, that voice they have. Everything is calm and forceful at the same time. Like whatever they did was right and the rest of the world could just deal with it.

"Somewhat. I've talked to Urahara since your arrival in the human world."

They, all three of them, shared at look at that.

_Did they really think he wouldn't tell me? Please. They can't be that naive._

"You're here to take me back. I know that," she said, her words rushed in her haste to just go ahead and get it said, get it out in the air. The tension in the room was choking her.

"Yes we are, Minako-san. Genryuusai-sensei has ordered us to bring you back to Seireitei."

Ukitake-taichou looked like he thought it would actually be that easy, that cut and dry. She knew better.

"I'll probably fight you all the way," she said, steel of her own in her voice. "I think I would now, but I—I think I'm in _shock_." The last bit was said with a hint of self-loathing, disgust in herself and her weak acceptance of her situation.

Her taichou gave her a look of disbelief. "Why, Minako-chan, don't say such things! Of course you won't. And we'd really all rather this go easy than be a major pain."

"I'm not lying. Do you understand? If I go back, everything will come out, and I'll rot in a cell for a couple of centuries." She looked at each of them in turn, knowing the one closest—and unknown to her—would be the largest problem.

"Oh, it's all right, Minako-chan. We're not going back right this minute. There are some things I'd like to clear up first."

She glanced at her taichou, apprehensive, and saw that he was no longer even feigning a smile.

_Oh, shit._

"I don't think I have to talk to you. Even if I go with you," she said, sullen and petulant. She had an itch to put her arms across her chest, but she made sure not to move her hands.

"But you _will._" There was steel underneath his teasing tone, and she didn't say anything else. It would only dig her own grave with the mood he was obviously in.

One of the cats, Ruri, suddenly bounded into the room from down the hallway, tail in the air, and they all stared at the interloper. Did they have no sense? Obviously they didn't feel threatened by these strange new men, but sheesh! They could be smart enough _not_ to come in here!

She bounded out just as quickly when she finally bought a clue and realized there were new people present, and the tension that had abated briefly with the odd animal's behavior returned, although it was lessened.

"You have a pet, Minako-san?" Ukitake-taichou asked, his face lighting up.

"Ah, two actually. Ruri, which you've now met, and Kiri. She's…well, she's skittish…probably won't come out."

He still looked delighted, and her memory was racing. He was always a bit of a soft touch, especially about animals and children.

But the moment was gone.

"Yare, Minako-chan. What do you have to say for yourself, then?"

She looked at her taichou, sitting awkwardly on the little wooden chest, with his hands clasped between his knees. His pink kimono was covering his shoulders, still, and she could even see the pins in his hair. It was almost too much, the flood of memories it brought on. How many times had she seen him like this? Too many to count, she was sure.

"There isn't anything to say. I left. Shinigami do it all the time; it's just that most of them get caught. I happened to have help in the form of the one person who seems to know how to get out and stay out."

She grinned.

"Those gigai of his are excellent."

He shot her a look, his big brown eyes crinkling at the edges.

"Don't be coy, now. We know what happened."

Her heart was racing.

He knew what happened? Or did he just think he knew? How much did he know? And how could she find out without spilling more information than needed?

"Then why are you asking me?" she said, defiant.

"Because. There are some things we don't know. You know it irritates me to only know part of the story; I want the whole thing." She looked up at the ceiling for a moment, lost in thought. "Perhaps I'm like my zanpakutou. _Selfish_."

She swallowed the lump in her throat.

"Why don't you tell me what you know. Or ask me the important questions."

He glared at her momentarily, then sighed.

"Isane-san told us most of it."

She felt her heart drop to her stomach. She knew they had all heard the hitch in her breath, which only proved that what they had already heard was probably true; everyone knew Isane couldn't lie to save her life. But he knew exactly how to play her, how to get her to open up by giving just the right hint.

_It has been way too long since I had to answer to someone else. I've forgotten how to lie!_

"So I guess the most important question would be: _who_?" His voice had darkened with that last word.

"Who?" The innocent demeanor probably wouldn't help, but…

"Who was he, Minako-chan?"

"Who was who, taichou?"

"_Minako_-_chan_, don't play dumb now. Who was he?"

She looked down at her lap, and then over to her left hand. She could see him in her periphery, and his hands were tightening, the skin around his nails becoming white. She knew now was not the time to play with him, but she couldn't fathom telling him the truth. If she did, right now, it would cause too many problems in the near future.

Her eyes traced a tiny scar stretching from her pinky finger all the way to her left wrist.

She raised her head and looked straight at him, resolute.

"I won't tell you." He opened his mouth to interrupt, but she raised her hand—the first time it had abandoned position on the arm of the chair—to halt him. "I won't. There is a very good reason behind it, I promise. I won't say a single word against anyone until I've spoken to Gen-oji-san."

_And if I have my way, I won't be,_ she thought. _Maybe. Oh, hell, I don't even know what I want._

He looked upset by that, but nodded.

"Ok, then. How about this: you left Seireitei—" he stopped, swallowing around something, "when you left Seireitei, you were pregnant. I don't see any pictures of a child. There are no toys, no extra bedroom in this place. The kid could have grown up, but there would be some evidence it had existed."

He glanced down at the ground, his hands tightening to the point she could see the veins, a striking blue among the now-white skin.

_This is why I didn't tell you. You were always a soft touch, too. Me, murder my child? You wouldn't have allowed it, no matter what had to be done._

"Where's the child?" he said, roughly.

"What child?" she asked, her voice the sound of perfect cluelessness.

Even Ukitake-taichou looked perplexed now.

"I mean it; what child? There is no child. I wasn't pregnant."

Ukitake-taichou's mouth was opening and closing slowly, as if he was trying to form words, and her taichou looked shocked.

"Isane-san said you were pregnant. That was the reason you left in the first place—"

"No," she interrupted, "no. We _thought_ I was. We were wrong."

He still looked shocked, and a little disbelieving. "It isn't something you get wrong, Minako-chan!"

"It's not like they had pregnancy tests back then, taichou!"

The men looked at her, confused, and the dark one a little shocked over her yelling at her former taichou, but she wasn't about to explain the human method of peeing on a stick.

Scratch that, she wasn't about to explain any of the new knowledge on reproduction to them. They could buy a science book for all she cared; it wasn't her job to spread sex-ed throughout the male population of Seireitei.

"We were wrong. Believe me; no one was as surprised as me. But after a few months, it was glaringly obvious when I didn't get _fat_."

She spat the last word, as if 'fat' was a disease. Of course, it represented a multitude of bad feelings for her, that physical representation of pregnancy.

"But, Minako-san, if you were not pregnant, why did you not return to Seireitei?"

She turned to Ukitake-taichou. "Well, by the time I was sure, I was already in it up to my neck. But originally, I didn't go back because I was—well, I was confused." She sighed, once again staring at her lap.

"I was in pain, I was screwed up psychologically from everything that had happened, and I couldn't go back." She looked up at them, then, urgency written on her face. "I had just gone through three of the most agonizing days of my life! Only to find out, in the end, that I wasn't even pregnant! Something strange was going on—which I cannot tell you about until I talk to oji-san—and I had no one to turn to! I was alone, and scared—and I couldn't imagine going back and—So I did what I thought I had to. I went to Urahara and Yoruichi, and they helped me."

"No one to turn to? You could have come to me." He looked at her, but she kept her eyes down. "Why didn't you come to me, Minako-chan? I would have helped you."

She opened her mouth to interrupt.

"No. I would have helped you, even if it involved keeping information from Yama-jii. This would have been a personal matter, not an official one. He has no say over that."

"I would have helped you." He sounded so forlorn, so heartbroken, that she could feel her own splitting in two.

"I—I—" she stopped. Trying to defend herself would only dig her deeper.

"Is this even necessary?" she heard the dark man next to her say. "If she's to be taken back, this can be sorted out then."

No one spoke for a minute, and she could tell even her taichou was considering the man's words. Which boded ill for her; if she could get a little more time, she could at least try _something_.

She was ready to bolt then and there, just to escape the possibility that they would call for a gate right then, but Ukitake-taichou's words stopped her. She must have been displaying the terror she felt at the idea on her face.

"I think a little time wouldn't hurt."

He looked at her.

"It must be shocking, yes? Some time to adjust would be good, and time to pack anything you wanted to take."

_Pack?_ She felt her stomach drop. _I'm really going—pack? _

It was suddenly all too real.

"I agree," her taichou said, his playful tone returning to his voice although anyone who knew him well could see the shadow of his darker thoughts still lurking in his eyes.

The dark one looked at them as if they had lost their minds, but he didn't say anything. And none of them moved.

Well, _she_ wasn't gonna move first.

"I—" she cleared her throat of the knot that terror had put there. "Ok."

"Then it's settled!" Her old taichou said, his hands clapping against his knees. He stood, finally, and looked towards Ukitake-taichou. "Ukitake, why don't you go get our things from Urahara-san's? We'll be staying here tonight. We'll leave first thing."

_Wha—here? Staying here? All of you?_

The pale man nodded, giving her a small smile before crossing the living room and exiting her apartment. Her taichou just stood there, as did the other man.

She turned to him.

"I assume you are Kuchiki-taichou, considering you're the only one I don't know," she said dryly.

He nodded, sharply, not abandoning his makeshift post.

She sweatdropped.

_Hard sell, then? Who is this robot?_

"Well, I guess if you're staying," she said, slowly, "I'll just—" she motioned to the kitchen.

"Of course, Minako-chan. Just ignore us." She could hear the dark amusement, a rarity, in his voice.

_Riiiight._

She got up from her chair, slowly, and moved into the kitchen. If she was actually going to leave, there were things that needed to be taken care of.

First, she made sure the cats were fed. The sound of shaking kibble brought both animals out of hiding and bounding down the hall into the kitchen. She cleaned this morning's dirty dishes, and slowly cleaned the counter.

_Uncomfortable. That's what this is._

She felt eyes on her, even now while the two were conversing softly near the entrance to the kitchen, and she wasn't sure that a chance at escape was worth an entire night of this creepy-crawly feeling.

She just continued swiping the cotton cloth across the counter, trying to ignore the creeping feeling on the flesh of her spine.

* * *

_She could feel the burning, the pain as her body felt like it ripped itself into tiny shreds. There was only agony, as she writhed on the sand, as she felt the blade disappearing into her body. _

_Was it this bad when they had done it? Her mind said it wasn't possible but her body seemed to remember the pain, the aching of joints folding and bones turning to what felt like dust. _

_What was happening?_

_She was sure she had passed out about this time when they had forced her to go through this, and in this instant she was almost thankful that her body had given her some mercy, but she wasn't…because it wouldn't do so right now—_

_Kisuke. Urahara. She could hear him shouting something. It flashed in her mind and in her vision, which was gone, just specks of flashing light in a purple void._

_Comprehension was nil. _

_The words didn't make sense; her vocabulary was gone with the white hot agony of her brain melting into mush. And it wasn't the only thing—she felt the desperation for oxygen circling through her body and her blood stream, felt pressure in lungs that suddenly weren't there, but she couldn't breathe without them. _

_She wouldn't live through this; she was pretty damn sure of it._

_She could feel her body getting ready for something, some monumental shift on an elemental level, and that last bit of pain shot through the body that was no longer there, no longer solid, and she screamed as the agony of being engulfed in flames so hot they were violet hit her._

_She could hear someone screaming, could feel the burn of the high level kidō spell as it settled around her and protected someone—she wasn't sure who right now, she was surprised she could even think. It hurt, so bad, and she just wanted it to go away—_

_And then the soaring started, the feeling of her body taking flight as it became lighter, faster, different. The pain was muted. It was background, white noise. It was fading away to be replaced with a new feeling she couldn't even describe. She could only compare it tasting color, to the texture of roiling fire._

_She could see her zanpakutou spirit in front of her, the giant dog she saw every time she spoke to him, but knew he wasn't there, not really, it was just a silly illusion to help her pitiful brain process what was going on. _

_And in seconds she was being called back, told to stop, to stop it now, there was no telling what it was doing to her body—_

_She raised her hand, at least that's what she told her brain to do, and saw flame, bright orange and red and even blue where her fingertips once were._

_She screamed, and screamed again when she felt her body start to change again—_

"Minako-chan. Minako-chan!"

She could hear a voice, an old voice. It was from her past, and for a minute, when she had opened her mind but not her eyes, she was afraid the dream had finally taken hold and she would never escape it.

"_Minako_!"

But she sat up quickly, violently pushing the large hand off of her shoulder as she screamed at someone, anyone to _turn on the light, now, just turn it on!_

The room flooded with light.

And she saw her taichou, standing by her bed with his hand still outstretched, and Ukitake-taichou, near the light switch by the door with wide eyes. Behind him was Kuchiki-taichou, his eyes slightly only slightly wider than normal, most likely in shock and surprise—for him, at least. The man was an emotional wall.

"Minako-chan?" he said, as his hand moved to her shoulder again—

"I'm fine!" she shouted, jerking her body away from him, black hair flying around her shoulders. Her ponytail had come undone in the middle of the night, again.

This was precisely what she hadn't wanted, a freak out in front of these people, and now they had seen it and the humiliation flooded her.

She sat there, her chest heaving as she tried to curb the hyperventilation she could feel coming on. It always did when someone was witness to her little attacks. As if the fear wasn't bad enough; the embarrassment usually pushed her over the edge.

"Minako-san, you were screaming."

Her maroon eyes briefly flashed to his face before staring down at the sheet once again.

"I'm fine. Just—just give me a minute."

She clutched her hand to her chest, feeling her heart thud against her ribcage every millisecond, it seemed, and she focused on the here and now. She focused on the men in her apartment, on the cats that had just run out of her room, on the sound of the city outside.

_You're here. The present. Not there._

She saw two faces fall into masks of sympathy in her periphery, and it started a whole new round of self-loathing. She hadn't realized she had said that out loud.

_I had this under control! Damn it! _

"It—I—every once in a while—" she stopped, her eyes closing as she sighed.

"We understand, Minako-san."

There was so much sympathy, so much of something so close to pity in his voice that she couldn't help but let the words burst out. She didn't need sympathy; didn't want it. And he didn't understand, they didn't understand, and she just had this burning need to let them know that they had no _fucking_ clue. They knew nothing about her, or what she had been through, and imagining that they did would only piss her off even more.

"It wasn't what you think," she said roughly. "You have no idea what—what that was. And it wasn't what you think."

"That bastard hasn't had a hold on me for a long time now," she muttered.

She glanced upward, saw the return of stoicism to Kuchiki-taichou, the sympathy still written on Ukitake-taichou's face, and the misery on her old taichou's.

The anger was too much to hold in.

"_Get out of my bedroom_," she hissed.

A little over thirty minutes later she had sufficiently recovered herself after having a mini-breakdown in her bedroom, and she threw on the robe at the end of her bed, heading into the kitchen.

She knew they would still be awake; one of them had been awake the entire night but she could feel the sheer thinking power of the three men in her apartment.

When she opened the door their heads darted upward, all three of them staring at her as she made the silent walk into the kitchen to start the kettle. It was a little like living in a goldfish bowl, one that once had a shade up and was now clear as crystal to anyone that walked by.

The cats, sufficiently recovered from the fear induced by her screaming, wound around her ankles as she readied four cups for the tea.

_What do I tell them?_

It flashed across her mind constantly, a new mantra, and she found herself at a loss. There would be questions, she knew, and none that she had an easy answer for.

She was so tired of this! Just a week and a half ago her life had been normal, easy, and generally ok, even if she got a little lonely sometimes. Now she was answering questions about things no one had any right to know about, and she was answering to all these people as if they had some say in her life. Last time she checked, she was an adult, capable of making her own decisions and leading her own life.

But they were here, now, and the awkward feeling would only grow if she didn't answer. And she would need allies, even if they were only the type of allies that could say "yes, the prisoner cooperated."

She was snapped out of her musing by the whistling of the tea kettle, and she quickly fixed the four cups of tea, sitting them gently on the small tray.

She watched the ground closely as she went, knowing that Ruri or Kiri were likely to trip her, otherwise, and sat the small tray on the coffee table. She was trampling someone's futon, but she didn't care. It was technically hers anyway.

She handed each of them a cup and saucer, taking the last one for herself, and then held up the small sugar service, not sure if any of them took their tea in the western style. After a few shakes of their heads, she was satisfied that they did not, and she returned it to the tray.

The steam was curling up in the air, drifting across her face, and she was thankful she could blame it for the blush that was growing on her face.

"I'm sorry, I don't have much else. I rarely get company, so…" she trailed off, now even more embarrassed.

"It's fine, Minako-chan."

His voice was quiet, in the hush of the late night, and she nodded.

"At least it isn't green tea, right?" she said tentatively, a bit of a teasing tone in her voice. It was worth it once she saw his reluctant smile.

They sat there quietly, no one apparently willing to break the tenuous peace that had fallen over the party. Finally she cleared her throat when her cup of tea was almost gone, knowing she would have to be the one to start the conversation and feeling that the humiliation that lurked under her skin had at least gone down enough she could talk.

Three men, three very powerful men, looked at her.

"I guess it's times for some answers, huh?" she said.

* * *

A/N: The Japanese Lesson has been incorporated into the next chapter.


	6. Chapter 5

A/N: I'm not going to keep repeating all the earlier information. Everything pertinent was included in the Prologue and Chapter 1.

But be warned, I told you there was some dark, and some of it will be included in this chapter. There's a lot of dark emotion floating around Minako's return to the Seireitei.

As I said in the last chapter, I'm sorry it's so late. I'll try not to let myself get behind again, although RL might happen to interfere at some point in the future.

As always, R & R if possible, even if just to say you're enjoying the story. I update two chapters every ten days on four sites, which means hours of formatting. If it isn't being read on a site I'll pull it down and save myself some time.

Enjoy!

* * *

"The Noble Sort"

* * *

It was three very subdued men and one very nervous woman that came through the specially-ordered gate Tuesday morning.

None of them had gotten any sleep after her nightmare, instead staying up and just waiting on the morning light to signal it was time to leave. She had answered a few questions—brushing most of it off with the answer that the dream was triggered by something that had happened in the human realm—had gotten ready, sent a text off to Lisa saying she had been caught and to feed her kitties, and they had all left after a fast breakfast of miso, tea, and rice.

There had been a momentary urge to send out an S.O.S., especially to Rin and Mori, but she decided not to. If anyone else became involved and got caught because of her, she didn't know what she would do.

They had gone to Urahara's to go back, and she had glared at him from underneath her lashes, but he just shrugged and gave her a "what can you do?" look from under his stupid hat. Thank the Kami Yoruichi was not there to see the humiliating spectacle.

Tessai had almost cried, a little moisture collecting in his eyes, which made it even worse; the poor guy was so big, crying looked awkward anyway, but the fact that he was crying over her?

Even worse.

These big men, they were all too soft. Of course, that brought up the question: what was wrong with her? But she never let herself look at it that way, preferring to focus on their softness instead of her insane amount of cynicism and bitterness.

She had given him a big hug and told him not to worry, she would see him soon, somehow.

_Freakin' men. Every one of them was soft._

Now, they were standing in an antechamber in the First Division—a place she could probably recognize by scent alone, so much time had been spent here—waiting on her uncle to acknowledge their arrival.

It almost hurt her, that she had, in the end, given in so easily after promising to fight them tooth and nail. But it didn't matter, she had decided last night; three taichou would find her, and after one escape attempt a binding was sure to follow. After the humiliation of last night she wanted to try to get around anything else that might showcase her craziness.

All plans of escape—she had about four figured out by the time she went to bed last night—had been abandoned in the face of common sense.

Plus, good behavior might get her a lesser sentence. She was still dead set on the idea that she was going to jail or a pretty gilded cage after this, or after their big battle, and she was going to try to get whatever leniency she could, however she could.

There was also the embarrassing, buried fact that she was scared.

She was going to see Gen-oji-san for the first time in almost a century, and at least she knew two of these men were somewhat on her side. It showed.

The third, well, she didn't think he had a heart, so he didn't register on her emotional radar. He would be of utterly no use to her.

Finally, there was a feeling of elation; she was home. This had been her home for so long, and just the smell of it was enough to make her want to come back again and again.

This waiting was making her nervous, causing a mental ramble.

They had been left standing here, all three men bordering her. The dark one was right behind her, the other two on either side, and it was obvious they were waiting on Gen-oji-san to appear and cut off her north route.

Like she would run _now_.

Um, where would she go? She was in the freakin' Seireitei, last time she checked. And inside the walls of the First Division HQ. Escape was not a possibility.

What made it worse was the fact that they were so calm about it all while she stood here and fell apart.

And she could hear feet, as people passed by on the long veranda outside or through the inner hallway. The one which, about twenty feet north, led to the large room the taichou met in. Where oji-san sat and handed out his orders.

Suddenly a door to the right slammed open, the one that led to the veranda around the building. Her oji-san's fuku-taichou stepped through—Kami, he was looking older these days, last time she saw him he had at least some black in his hair—and stopped short upon seeing her.

"I don't think I believed it until I saw you," he said breathlessly.

She stared right back, entranced with the new, yet old, face in the room, before he shook his head and focused on the taichou surrounding her.

"We have a situation. Yamamoto-taichou has ordered you, Kuchiki-taichou, to his office. There are others there."

The man behind her nodded slightly and was gone before she noticed him begin his shunpo.

_Yeah._ She swallowed. _Not someone I wanted to try and run from. Glad I ended up reading that one right._

"Kyouraku-taichou, Ukitake-taichou, you are to stay with the—with Minako-sama. No one is to see her, if possible, but you have to get her downstairs."

She felt the anxiety rolling off the men beside her, and then she remembered what _downstairs_ was code for.

A cell.

Actually, a row of cells, some of which had the heaviest kidō spells possible surrounding them to prevent prisoners from even contemplating escape. She had only been down there once, and that was an accident. As a child she was not allowed to roam there, and as an adult she had had no wish to.

She felt panic start to grip her insides, but tried to push it down; a cell was what she had expected, after all, and as long as they didn't bind her it would be fine. She could deal with small spaces, just not being bound.

Her oji-san's fuku-taichou shot her a sympathetic look, then turned and ran off to do whatever other important things he must have to do.

"I don't know about this, Shunsui. This was not—"

"We don't have a choice, not right now."

"Sorry, Minako-chan," her taichou said, his voice rough, before he picked her up, his arms around her waist very suddenly, and they were flying at the speed of shunpo.

Talk about walks down memory lane. She had never liked her taichou _that way,_ but it was always a preferred method of travel. He always smelled nice.

Walls and people blurred at unbelievable speed, some of whom were just trying to get out of the way. She knew it was the only way to get her down there without them being seen, but it really was impolite to shunpo through a building; the clerks hated that, if she remembered right.

They headed down a small flight of stairs at the back of the building, and then the world was moving at normal pace again.

There was only one guard and no one actually in any of the cells. They all did that nondescript nod that men do as a greeting, and then Kyouraku-taichou grabbed her arm lightly and walked her to the fourth cell.

The door opened slowly, and yet again her heart raced at the thought of being put in a cell, but she clamped it down for the second time.

She pulled her arm out of his grasp; if she was going, she would do it on her own terms.

She entered the cell slowly, taking in the eight foot by eight foot space, and then walked immediately to the _thing_ they called a cot and sat down heavily.

She heard the door shut behind her—they never did so quietly, she noticed, even when one wasn't slamming them like on those prison shows on television—and she leaned back against the wooden, kidō-enforced wall.

_Suckage!_

She felt the heat of both their eyes upon her but she just pulled her knees up to her chest and stared at the ceiling.

"Go ahead and go to whatever meeting is taking place. You have Hidaruma, that stupid shishi, and there's no way I'm getting through this kidō."

She could hear a soft presence in the back of her head snorting at the insult of being referred to as a shishi—_him, a glorified guard dog_—but she brushed it off. He would soon be too far for her to worry about anyway.

_Good luck, old friend._

Looks passed between the two men for a minute or so before they just turned and left, although not without one look back at her. Two, in the case of Ukitake-taichou.

_Such a soft touch._

She let her head fall back against the wood once more, and returned to watching the ceiling do nothing.

* * *

So.

Jail was boring.

And creepy.

And really dark at night.

All the things she hated, basically.

_Peachy-fuckin'-keen._

She swore something had just crawled across her toe. She slapped at her foot ineffectually, not being able to see anything and no longer feeling the tingle of creepy-crawlies.

They had brought her in here sometime around nine-thirty or ten, if she was calculating right, and she knew she had been here at least long enough for it to have been dark for hours. If she calculated right, considering it was late October, it was at least past nine at night.

There were four possibilities…

One: the situation was one of those situations where _situation_ becomes code for attack, battle, or murder. Of course, she hadn't heard any explosions, collapses, or anything that screamed danger, so she discounted it.

Two: oji-san, who was now on her shit list and becoming Yamamoto-sou-taichou from here on out, was letting her sweat it out, hoping a night in the slammer would make her talkative and malleable in the morning. She really wouldn't put him past psychological warfare either. He had done it when she was young, always with the reverse psychology and the manipulative punishments.

Three: he had forgotten about her in the middle of the crazy _situation_ earlier and she would rot down here. Highly possible, considering no one had brought her lunch or dinner. Not even a glass of water. There was a sink, if it could be called that, but she wasn't that desperate yet.

Four: she was down here for good, at least until they transferred her to one of the more permanent prison cells under Central. Or until they took her to be executed. But she was pretty sure even death row-ers got food, and they usually got a visit from someone who cared. She had had neither.

And food sounded really good right now.

Not only because she was hungry—although she was—but because it would take her mind off things. They had put her in cell four, which was close to the end of the hallway lined on both sides with cells, and the only light was coming from a lamp up by the guard. There was none back here, really, which made her twitchy and nervous. Dark was not something she needed to be around.

It ranked right up there with being bound and bright lights.

It freaked her out sometimes. She could walk around at night outside, and it never bothered her. It was as if the light was filtered differently.

She wasn't even contemplating sleep; not here. She just knew the "big one" would come on while she was asleep, terrifying her and scaring the guard, who looked like he was young enough to still be living with his parents in the human world.

The guard moved around, getting up and grabbing something from a low shelf in front of his desk, and she shifted to the right frantically, staying in the small shaft of light the lamp put off this far down.

She had long ago vacated the uncomfortable cot for the even more uncomfortable floor, only because the stupid thing was wedged in the corner and didn't get any light at all.

She held her breath as he walked back around to his seat, watching as the shadow crept up on her. She immediately scooted back to the left.

And it was cold, too. Didn't they know she was a fire-type?

She put her head back against the now-cool wood, staring into the space above her. The ceiling was no longer visible; she swore there was a light hanging—

_No!_

_Don't you go there!_

She tried to calm the hyperventilation she could feel coming on as quietly as possible, not wanting to alert her errant guard to her distress. She was pretty sure he had forgotten she was down here.

Shadow was bad. Shadow was made up of men, on top of you, thrusting and doing horrible things…shadow was painful.

She was surrounded by shadow.

She suppressed the urge to pull her hair out, letting her hands fist in the dark strands but not pulling.

She was starting to get tired, too, and she swore she would, under no circumstances, fall asleep in this pit of nightmares.

_Jail sucks._

* * *

"_There's so much blood," someone said shakily. "What do we do, what do we do!"_

"_Try and clean it off!" Someone shouted._

_She felt a cool shadow fall over her, and she cringed. But moving away was impossible; parts of her were in agony that she didn't know she had._

_Someone took her hand, not in a creepy way but trying to comfort her, she could tell, and she felt a wisp of air by where her ear should be—was it there? She couldn't tell anymore, she couldn't tell anything anymore—and suddenly Urahara. Urahara. It flashed across her brain. That was who this was._

"_Minako. Listen, Minako. Come on, look at me."_

_His voice held a tone she had never heard before, so different than the cool, the playful, the sly she was used to from her blond friend, and it scared her, because it was her he was trying to get through to. And she tried, she tried, but her eyes wouldn't open, they wouldn't focus, she couldn't find him at all._

"_Minako?" She heard someone inhale quickly and loudly, gasping. _

"_Can you see me?"_

"_I—I can't—" _

_She was trying so hard, but the pain was unbearable, all she wanted was to scream, like she could hear Hidaruma doing, her precious puppy—oh, he would hate that—but he was screaming for her, screaming so loud. And he must have stolen her voice, because she could barely get the words out, could barely breathe enough to even form the words._

"_Can't open—eyelids—"_

_She heard his breathing hitch sharply, and she worried—if Urahara was this upset, surely she was dead, dead dead dead, and right now that didn't sound too bad because this was more than agony—_

"_Your eyes are open, Minako."_

_And it was the final straw, she realized, as his words finally penetrated her brain and it pulled up the corresponding meaning to those sounds and tones, and she finally let the agony out and joined Hidaruma in his screams._

Minako's whole body stiffened as the electric shock of reality returning raced through her body. She was breathing heavily but wasn't screaming—_little things to be thankful for_—and she gently laid her head back against the wall, fighting the full body shivers that were coming on from the coolness of the floor and the horror of her dream.

She wanted to scream at the guard to bring her some light, something, but she didn't dare. She bit her knuckle, focusing on slowing her heartbeat, her breathing, and not letting her mouth form the four little words that were her favorite after her dreams.

_Turn on the light! Turnonthelight!—_

_STOP!_

She threw up the mental halt, and it worked, thankfully. All she needed was a freak out. She'd had more close calls in the past week than she had in the last fifty years. It was getting ridiculous.

But she couldn't help it; her daydreams were filled with a beautiful, lit bedroom with light-colored sheets and cream walls. Light.

But it wasn't the only thing on her mind. After all, in jail, all her time was time to think.

_Death_.

She couldn't remember it, thankfully.

Urahara had said, later, that it had been momentary, that her heart had not handled the shock of it.

She remembered that feeling, when even though her brain couldn't comprehend simple words it could comprehend that blind meant permanent dark and her body had just said _hell, no_ and given up right then. Her mind had joined in, too, and everything had blanked.

She had woken up weeks after that first try, and she had still felt the flames licking her body.

It was one thing to be a fire-type, and actually, expected. Such things tended to run in the family, she knew, and both her father and her uncle were fire-types. But it was one thing to be a _fire-type _and a totally different one to become _fire_. It had been the most terrifying experience of her life to date, even worse than the original assault that started all of it.

Later on, of course, it had become a joke between Hidaruma and herself. He had joked that his name needed to be changed to Kagutsuchi, or Ho-Masubi, and she had told him his ego was already large enough. He didn't need the name of a Kami to make it even bigger.

He had pouted for months.

Eventually they had reached a compromise: she would stop calling him Baka-inu and he wouldn't get a new name. But it was alright; the shishi insult had been born not too long after due to a trip to a shrine during one of the many festivals, and there was always the old "tanuki" epithet.

She had even told him they could just be rid of it all, once, and called him Inubi. He hated that.

Right now, she missed him. It was like missing part of herself, not having him here, but at least she knew he was safe in her old taichou's possession. He wouldn't be broken or abused, thankfully, which was probably more than she could have asked for if the guard here was watching him.

She once again tried to gauge the time, but it wasn't going to work. She could guess it was about midnight, maybe two at the latest. It was the darkest part of the night, and there was a new guard. They changed shift at 10 or 11, usually, and this one looked too fresh to have been down here half his shift.

She considered the cot again; it had to be more comfortable than the floor. But it wasn't in the light, only shadow, and she couldn't handle it after that. To be honest, she was surprised she wasn't freaking out about the light.

Her fingers itched to start scratching at invisible flame, invisible shadow. She could feel it creeping up her arms, spreading throughout her body, and she was waiting, irrationally, for the pain to kick on.

She wanted so badly someone, someone that was not her, right now.

Just someone to talk to. Even Ruri or Kiri would do.

Just not the guard.

She pulled her knees closer to her body, hugging them against her as tightly as possible, and she tried to settle herself comfortably against the wooden wall behind her and the bars beside her. She huddled under the jacket she had on when she came here, hoping it would give her some comfort and warmth.

She was cold.

She was alone.

The shadow was creeping closer every minute, every second.

She was going to go insane. In jail. Yamamoto sou-taichou's jail.

_Jail sucked._

* * *

A/N: The Daily Japanese Lesson.

_Miso_ is a soup, orange-ish, made out of a block of stuff called miso. No clue what it really is.

_Kami_ is a god.

_Shunpo_ is the flash-step.

_Kid__ō_ is a spell using the spirit force or soul force.

_Hidaruma_ is Minako's zanpakutou, literally means "mass of flames."

_Shishi_ is a protective guard dog, usually looking very lion-like. Found at the entrances to temples most often.

_Kagutsuchi_ is a fire god in Japanese myth.

_Ho_-_Masubi_ is another name for a fire god in Japanese myth.

_Inubi_ means fire dog, literally.

_Tanuki_ is a raccoon dog, a small animal of Japan. Yes, it is real.


	7. Chapter 6

A/N: I'm not going to keep repeating all the earlier information. Everything pertinent was included in the Prologue and Chapter 1. But I have a warning for all the readers—this chapter is a little different. It's comedic relief, Bleach style, which usually means insanity.

Yamamoto will be a little OOC, but it actually fits his character to a point. And take it from the granddaughter of a general, military brat to the bone—when the family misbehaves, they act like any parent/grandparent/uncle would. Trust me. Rank flies out the window. I've seen military men of high rank act very much like this, as if they just snap and can't separate the role of family man and the role of military leader.

(I was once told a story that involved one of my parents getting a beating on the front lawn when the MP's at Fort Bragg brought them home drunk. They're still people behind that rank. And we grandkids knew never to ever let the police take us to papa's if we were in trouble.)

Anyway, if you don't like it, that's your prerogative. This chapter is not needed for the plot, just comedic relief. You can skip it if you wish-that's why there are three chapters being posted this week instead of two.

And I want to shout out to all those who have reviewed or favorited so far on the many different sites: toast, taixi, Kaylzee, Kairi-senpai, apples and bananas, KajiMori, ninjamonkey20, Midori Ren, Time Force Red, Kyliwolf, Severus4ever, JamieTurpin, Ariannith, owlxxOxx, fangame, essex6789, DragonEmperor, and YurGurl. And to those who did so after I wrote this note last week. For those of you on the LJ board, well, there are too many to list every person that's commented, so I say "thank you" to all of you.

And a special thank-you to pawsbells, who has read much of this story, answered my crazy e-mails, and generally been a support while I wrote this thing even though I'm _supposed_ to be _her _beta.

Enjoy!

* * *

"The Noble Sort"

* * *

She came out of her meditative state to the feel of a cold gaze on her.

Her uncle was standing outside her cell, Sasakibe fuku-taichou right behind him. And if she had thought Choujirou had aged, her uncle was even more ancient than she could possibly imagine.

Perhaps not everyone could see it, but she could. He had lost a great deal of weight and what looked like another inch on his height. He was trying to hide it under those clothes, but that wasn't going to work on her; she knew better. She could see the bones in his hand as it rested on his cane, the roping veins as they pulsed, barely covered by his thin skin.

She fought the urge to scramble down out of her new perch—as morning had come on she had moved back to the cot and taken up the farthest corner to hopefully meditate and allow her mind some rest, even if she couldn't sleep. Moving quickly would give him the idea that she was going to bow to his authority, an image she didn't want to present.

Instead she just stared, waiting on him to make the first move. He had left her here all night, after all.

It seemed like an hour passed before he finally did.

She felt rather than heard him sigh, and he motioned to Sasakibe to open the door. His eyes, usually small slits in his weathered face, opened wider to glare at her. She held her breath as inconspicuously as possible as he stepped into the small room, his five foot and six inches seeming to take up the whole of the space. The force of presence he carried had always awed her; he was never a large man but he was always the biggest in the room, the center of attention and mental focus. It was a trait she had never mastered and always envied in her uncle.

"Well, gaki? What do you have to say for yourself?"

She sweatdropped.

"Answer me!" he boomed, his voice echoing along the corridor of cells.

In response she tightened her arms around her knees, dropping her head to stare down at the bony joints.

"Yamamoto Minako, if you don't answer me I will drag you out of that cell and give you a thrashing you won't forget." The promise was oozing from his words, too. He would do it.

"I refuse to incriminate myself for one of your mock trials," she hissed, finally looking up at him, her eyes glaring daggers.

He glared right back.

The reiatsu in the room rose forcefully as the two let their pressures clash against each other violently, even with the kidō reinforcements trying to keep any trace of reiatsu out of the cell.

Sasakibe backed up, running into the bars of the cell in his haste to vacate the area. The poor man was not inexperienced when it came to the stubbornness of the Yamamoto clan, and he had seen them go at it before.

It rarely ended well, and it never ended without some damage to surrounding property once the fire was brought out. Too many times it had ended in trips to the Fourth and tears or very, very loud screaming.

"Mock trial?" he thundered. "You voluntarily deserted your post! That offense is punishable by execution, little girl!"

"_Then_ _execute_ _me_, _Yamamoto-sou-taichou,"_ she hissed, her eyes narrow and her lips pursed together.

She saw him jerk, as if slapped, and she felt just a hint of remorse for the insult. She knew he hated it, but at least it let him know how she felt right now.

Of course, only he would take her use of his formal title as an insult, but it had always been that way.

Sasakibe had, by now, backed all the way to the guard's desk, and it looked like he was ready to call the kidō corp. at any moment.

"It's not like it matters to you anyway. I'm damn sure you could watch them chop my head off without remorse," she said, the bitter words literally flung at her uncle and only living relative.

"Minako, what you have done is unacceptable. Do you realize the position you put me—put your mother in—when you left?"

She scoffed.

"Don't mock me, girl," he hissed, and he stepped forward, getting ready to use his favorite intimidation tactic, crowding. IT had always worked well for him, mainly because she had always had personal space issues.

_If they could only see their great commander when he dealt with his errant niece…she was sure most of the shinigami nowadays had no idea of the things that used to go on in this place._

She sighed, heavily.

"I'm not mocking you, Yamamoto-sou-taichou." She noticed another flinch, although much better hidden.

"I just want to go home," she said, soft and tired.

"Home? And where is _home_, Minako?"

"My home. With my cats and my own bed and furniture. And no bars," she said, now disgusted with the cell she had been in for somewhere around twenty-four hours.

Although, she had answered her question. It was psychological warfare; a night in the cells to impress her.

_Yeah, right._

"No. You'll be going home, but not to the human realm. We have much to discuss; unfortunately, some of us have _responsibilities_."

He turned, speaking to the wall in front of him instead of her.

"You will be taken _home_. I have posted enough of my division there as security that you will not be getting out. I anticipate the…_conversation_…we will have this afternoon."

"So nice to have been important enough to get a visit!" she yelled as he began to walk down the hallway separating the two rows of cells, cane tapping on the floor in time with his footfalls. "It's nice to know that I'm in the class of criminals who warrant special consideration from _Yamamoto-sou-taichou_, and in the first twenty-four hours, too!"

He didn't even break stride that time, although she still saw the twitch in his shoulders.

He was gone up the stairs in seconds. Sasakibe, the poor man, came back down the line of cells and motioned for her to follow him, and she desperately wanted to take pity on him and do as he asked. But he wasn't capable of coercing her into anything right now, and he wasn't capable of defeating her either. Even without Hidaruma.

It was daytime now. Light made everything different.

Where last night she had seen shadow and only felt fear, she now saw purpose. And, there was light. Lots of light.

Jail still _sucked_, but in daytime, not as _much_.

"Shut the door, Sasakibe. If I'm a criminal, I'm gonna be treated like a fucking criminal."

She felt something rising up in her; it felt like courage. She had had that, once upon a time.

Poor Sasakibe. He looked devastated, and yet again she felt pity bloom in her heart for the man who got the wonderful job of telling her uncle that his headstrong niece refused to vacate her cell.

He also looked really upset by her language, which made her morning brighter.

The only thing she needed now was a whole turkey, and she would be happy until dark fell.

And maybe a puzzle, or a Sudoku book.

He scrambled down the hall and to the stairs, and she also gave him a parting shot:

"And some damn _toast_ if you please!"

The room was quiet again, with only the guard to stare at—who was also staring at her, probably wondering who the fool that had just pissed off his taichou was—and she realized something.

Oh. Yeah.

This wasn't courage.

_Shit._

The bars were all she could see again.

_What happened to leniency, and good behavior? Parole, remember?_

_False bravado. Shit._

* * *

It was light, and it wasn't scary, so she finally slept.

Of course, that was only after taking her hair down and using the clip that had held it up as a music maker on the bars. She had never been to jail before; she was gonna get all the clichés out of the way. She wished she had a small mirror and some company in one of the cells further down the corridor; it would be interesting to test that old prison-movie trick of passing messages and codes with mirrors.

Or a spoon. People were always digging out of jail with spoons. Perhaps she could give it a try, just to see how possible such an escape really was.

But she didn't have any of these things, and trying to liken her situation to a television show bored her about an hour in.

No one brought her any toast either, which only upped the anger writhing in the pit of her stomach.

* * *

She woke in the afternoon to the clatter of the cell door being thrown open—_yeah, oh shit—_and she watched as her uncle threw off the cultivated visage of infirmity and stalked into the cell.

She was barely able to scramble off the bed and get on her feet before his hand was closing around her left upper arm and yanking her behind him. Sasakibe jumped in line behind them while they were still in the cell, making her plan harder to execute. She wouldn't be able to backpedal at all.

She fought, trying to pull her arm out of his grasp, but he was as muscular as ever.

She tried to plant her feet on the ground, but she soon realized he would just drag her with him and then _she_ would be on the ground.

Right at the door of the cell she jerked, hard, to the right, slamming herself in front of the bars and whacking her head on them as the force he was dragging her with swung her bodily into them. It hurt, but that wasn't anything she couldn't handle. Thankfully, her face ended up smashed between two bars instead of planted right into one of them.

"Let. Go. Of. Me…Now," she rasped, her breath already speeding up from the kick of adrenaline.

He whipped around, his long beard swinging in an arc around his body, whipping against her thighs, and suddenly his face was right next to hers, his breath warm on her cheek. She could literally see the sparks of anger in his eyes.

"_Stop acting like a spoiled brat,_" he hissed at her, jerking her over to the door of the cell and, finally, through it.

She continued to fight, meaningless though she knew it was, and by the time they had made it out of the building they had already startled more people than she had seen since she had arrived. The older ones just continued on; this was nothing new to anyone who recognized her. But the new clerks…

She briefly wondered—was it the fact that their leader was bodily dragging a much younger woman through his division or the question of who she was? After all, this could have become a habit by now, for all she knew.

She continued her jerking and spasming, even once trying to literally pry the huge hand off of her arm with her free hand, but it didn't work. He had her halfway through the courtyard before she smacked at his hand and gritted her teeth at the tightening of his grip.

_The bruises! Think of the bruises!_

Finally, most likely disgusted with her behavior and the situation in general, he stopped. She let out a big breath at the reprieve but then squealed when _both _of his hands moved to grab her around the waist.

Wait.

_Freedom!_

She pivoted on her heel, meaning to use her millisecond of time wisely, and made to take off—she knew the direction she was facing wouldn't help her get out, but if she could veer right later it would work.

But it didn't quite work out that way.

She had barely even begun her shunpo when she felt his massive arms come around her arms and waist and drag her to him, and she was squashed like a bug.

She shrieked.

It only made his reiatsu flare that much more.

He hauled her feet up off the ground—this was one of those times where she really wished she weighed more—and started forward.

"Put me down, jii-jii!"

"I am going to bend you over my knee like I should have when you were a babe," he muttered, and she had a sudden fear he actually might do it.

"_Yamamoto-sou-taichou!_ This is undignified!"

Ooh. She _felt_ that flinch. That one had hit the bull's eye.

From this position she could also see behind them and, mortified, she saw the group of shinigami standing at the door of the building, watching the spectacle.

_Lovely. We have an audience. Maybe it's time for that false bravado to kick in?_

"No respect at all. No propriety, either," he huffed, settling her higher; she could feel the bony shoulder digging into one of the vertebrae of her upper back.

She dredged up the ability she hadn't had to use in over a century, and she felt them start. Her vision was blurring before they made it the rest of the way across the courtyard.

There was a young redhead moving in their direction carrying a large stack of papers, and she called out to him, her voice teary and sorrowful.

"Help me, _please_!"

"Don't you dare!" he shouted, and she wasn't sure if it was aimed at her or the young fuku-taichou that had stopped, staring openmouthed at them.

Just in case, she stopped the fake waterworks. If the guy was too afraid to help her, they would just be wasted anyway. And she didn't see anyone else in the immediate vicinity other than Sasakibe, who wouldn't lift a finger to help her anyway. He just looked scandalized, as he always did when they fought like this.

Although, she would admit, she couldn't remember the last one that was this bad.

_Wait._

Yes she did! That guy—she couldn't remember his name for the life of her—she had gone to dinner with about a century and few years more ago. He had hated the guy for some reason, and he marched into the restaurant, bodily hauled her out of the chair, and took her home. She had fought all the way and ended up being dumped in a mud puddle to "calm down."

They finally stepped through the gates and not even a _second_ after, she felt him shunpo.

They arrived at the house shortly after.

His left arm, currently also connected to the shoulder _digging into her back_, hefted her up again and curled all the way around her waist.

She knew—this was not her first time experiencing this, after all—that he was about to move his right arm. She knew it. She could feel it in her bones.

_He did._

She closed her eyes, praying to every deity she could think of at present, and jerked. Hard.

His arm didn't loosen, unfortunately. He just shook her around a bit, something he knew she had hated when she was younger and this was more common—something she still hated. Especially with her stomach this empty.

"Get your fucking hands _off_ me, _jii_-_jii_!"

He stopped, slowly turning to face her, and shook her hard enough that she swore she felt her brain rattling in her head.

_Ow._

He never had liked foul language.

_Probably deserved that one. Direct provocation._

He stormed past the walkway that would take them to the main building—his part of the family plot—and she felt them going downhill.

_Oh, hell no._

"Ok, ok, jii-jii. I'm sorry," she said, her words rushing out of her mouth.

He didn't stop.

She wiggled her arms free and tried pushing on the large one that was holding her so tightly, but he wouldn't budge. She could finally see his destination coming up below them, at the base of the small hill, and she squealed. No. No way in hell. Uh-uh.

"I'm really sorry! I swear! Please, _pleasepleaseplease _don't, it's too cold for that!"

"Too late," he muttered, something like pride in his voice at the fact that he had finally managed to get her to stop fighting. Like that had ever been a problem; there were two methods that had always worked, one of which she was about to experience.

She continued wiggling about, desperate to get free, and she suddenly heard laughing.

She looked over at the balcony he had built especially for his personal convenience before she was even born and saw, to her utter humiliation, that they had a larger audience than Sasakibe.

He was one thing. It was, well, had been, somewhat normal for him.

But her old taichou? And—holy! Was that little Nanao? Talk about growing up! She had still been a teen when she had left!

But Kyoraku-taichou was laughing at her plight, and it only fanned the flaming rage growing inside of her.

"Stop laughing, _ahou!_" The woman next to him—she was sure that was little Nanao—looked scandalized. Lisa wouldn't believe her when she finally got out of this place and was able to tell her about it!

Her former taichou, though, just laughed harder.

She felt the ground even out under them and knew they were right there, right at the stupid pond, and she switched tactics. Instead of fighting to get lose, she tried to hold on as tightly as possible. One of her arms snaked around his while her right arm, almost useless at this angle, clutched awkwardly at his haori. Unfortunately, it was useless.

She felt his arm unfurl, and she felt one very large hand grab onto her waist, pulling her off of his body.

Then all she knew was the feeling of flying through the air, even as she grabbed for her uncle's arm, and the quick fall into _coldcoldcold! _water. She surfaced slowly, swimming awkwardly to the edge of the bank, and she just sat there. In the mud.

She knew better than to try to get out.

"Are you _rational_?" he asked, looking down at her.

Her hair was sopping wet, strands of it hanging in front of her face. Hopefully it was hiding her embarrassed blush.

"Yes, Yamamoto sou-taichou," she replied sullenly.

He just stared down at her, his cane once again out and tapping against the soft earth at the edge of the pond.

"Yes, Gen-oji-san," she muttered.

"Good. Now get out, girl, and dry off. We're going to hash this out if it's the last thing I do."

She just sat, legs and arms crossed, and watched the "Ichi" on the back of his taichou haori as he walked up to the house, where her former taichou was laughing his ass off.

* * *

A/N: Now. Let me defend myself. I know someone's out there going "Yamamoto would never ever, ever, ever, ever, ever do that!" No, he probably wouldn't. That's why this is called fanfiction, yes? Because I may torture the characters to my delight.

Also, look up his character in the soul book. He's known to be rash and have a temper, and he's old school, thinking all the "youngsters" need a sound beating every once in a while. He does tend to yell, we've seen it in the anime and manga, and I have tried to follow everything I could as closely as possible. Would he ever do this? Who knows? We know that he feels Ukitake and Kyouraku are like his kids, and he goes to beat the crap out of them and probably kill them when they try to save Rukia.

But it was comic relief, something sorely needed, and I enjoyed it. And not to be too petulant, but it's my story, and if I want to torture Yamamoto, I will. I'm not the one throwing together yaoi pairings that would never happen, like Ichigo and Aizen.

Seriously. No.

And the Japanese lesson will be in Ch. 8.


	8. Chapter 7

A/N: Okay, back to serious now.

Once again, everything important lurks in the first two chapters' notes, and everything important for this week's update is located in the previous chapter.

Like I said, three chapters for this update, so be prepared for another this week.

And I once again apologize for any errors; I beta and edit and check these chapters but occasionally something skips through merrily. Feel free to point them out and I'll change them.

Enjoy!

* * *

"The Noble Sort"

* * *

She had been dried off—_thank Kami_—and fed soon after she entered the house. The maid of the main house, who had been there probably longer than her ancient uncle, had tutted at her condition and sent him a look that could have thawed a polar ice cap.

It didn't bother him; it never did.

Unfortunately, Minako could not dredge up enough courage to do the same, even though her teeth were chattering now.

He had always been like that; she knew it. Part of her almost thought she did it on purpose, to get some normal reaction out of him, something that harkened back to the days when she was still a teen and he was just her uncle. When rank hadn't been between them.

Well, if she remembered right, not even her rank had stopped him a few times.

Hikaru, the elderly maid, bustled her into the large patio room that her uncle preferred, holding a very large kimono over her shoulders and hovering to make sure she didn't drop the tea she had been given.

She arrived to find her uncle seated on a couch, which hadn't been there last time she was here, and her former taichou and his new fuku-taichou seated on another one across from him. Her zanpakutou, still in its sheath, lay across her uncle's knees blocked by his cane.

_He would._

They looked up as she entered and she could feel her face heat. Nanao looked just as mortified, although Minako wouldn't even take a guess at why.

As a matter of fact, the only person that looked pleased was her former taichou, whose smile was still a little too large for her taste.

"Sit, Minako."

Her uncle's eyes were pointing to the spot right next to him, and while she really did not want to be so close to him right now, so soon after _that_, she obeyed.

_Hidaruma?_

She didn't get an answer.

_Hey! You lazy shishi, answer me! Are you alright?_

She heard a grumpy huff in the back of her mind, and then she could see the black inu's face in her mind's eye.

_I'm fine. I'm just freezing, baka. You had to get yourself thrown into the pond now, didn't you?_

_Sorry,_ she replied guiltily.

_Well, you're suffering with me. _

She felt eyes on her and looked up. All three of them were staring at her.

"Sorry. Hidaruma was…checking on me."

_You wish, onna._

_Shut it, shishi._

The awkwardness was evident, and she knew it would be up to her to shift the focus of the room onto something other than her, what had just happened, or her zanpakutou. Looking directly across from her at the young woman seated so formally by Kyouraku-taichou, she knew what it would be.

"I—Nanao-chan! Look at you! You've grown up since I was gone!"

The petite woman blushed even harder, although she soon recovered, adjusting her glasses and fidgeting around on the couch. She glanced up at Minako and sent her a tiny smile, though. It meant that things were well, although she was obviously worried.

"We'll have to catch up while I'm here. I'm sure I've missed a lot."

The young woman nodded, her face flushing more than Minako thought was physically possible.

"Ise fuku-taichou, Shunsui will no longer have need of you tonight." Her uncle's voice was no-nonsense, something the woman seemed to pick up on quickly. She bowed at the waist and left through the balcony doors, using shunpo as soon as she had cleared the furniture.

"We are waiting on Retsu, then we will begin."

She looked at her former taichou, so relaxed, and wondered if it was a front. Of course, she had just made of fool of herself and given him something to laugh about, but he had to know what was about to come up.

They sipped tea quietly, and she enjoyed the aromatic brew. One of the things she had missed in the human realm was her uncle's love of tea; he always had the best quality leaves and it was always brewed to perfection. Her own, well, it sucked. She would admit it.

Soon enough the sliding doors she had entered through less than ten minutes earlier opened, with Hikaru-san bowing and presenting Unohana-taichou.

No fuku-taichou with her, either.

She took the seat Nanao had recently vacated, across from Minako, and smiled pleasantly at her.

Well! Here was someone who finally seemed genuinely pleased to see her here, although it was Unohana-taichou and the woman would be polite if she faced down a hollow threatening to rip her hair out.

"Minako-san, it is good to see you well," she said, her musical and polite voice still one of the most soothing—and scary—things Minako had ever heard.

"Thank you, Unohana-taichou. I am glad you are as well."

She could feel her uncle's smugness at her improved behavior. As if he had anything to be smug about; she wouldn't be rude to Unohana-taichou. She was like the favorite aunt, you could never be mean to her!

And, well, she was scary.

Soon enough, he motioned Hikaru over and let her collect their cups, and he waited until she was out of the door and a decent ways down the hall before he shifted in his seat, turning slightly to her.

"Are we going to be able to have this conversation now?"

"Yes, Gen-oji-san," she muttered, feeling like a chastised teenager.

"Without violence?"

"Yes, Gen-oji-san," she said, flushing a bright red.

"With civility and dignity?"

"Yes, Gen-oji-san," she said exasperatedly as she looked down at her hands, which were playing with the sleeve of the kimono that now rested in her lap.

"Yare, yare, Minako-chan, we're not the firing squad."

She looked at the smiling face of her former taichou, and she wondered how long that smile would last.

Did he not realize why they were here? What they were going to be discussing? Not only would they be ripping apart some of the worst events of her life, she would be doing it in front of three of the people she had looked up to her entire life!

They were her mentors, her idols, the people she had wanted to be when she was a kid. And now, they were going to sit there and hear every sick little detail of her life, and he just smiled as if it didn't phase him, shouldn't phase her, didn't even matter.

She could feel the panic start up, the rushing and pumping of her blood, and she fought to control it, to subdue it, at least long enough to get through this. She could fall apart later, in the comfort of her bedroom. If she got to stay there tonight.

"What do you want to know first?" she finally asked, the dread evident in her tone.

There was silence for a long moment as all three tried to figure out what to say.

"Why don't you start at the beginning, Minako-san," Unohana-taichou said gently.

"Ok, then. The beginning." She took a deep breath, readying herself. "The only thing is—I—well, can I ask you all to just let me get it out first? Questions can come later, I promise, I just don't know if I'll make it through if I have to keep stopping."

Unohana, still sitting perfectly straight on the couch nodded, her eyes shining with sympathy, that hated emotion. Her uncle bobbed his head slowly; she knew it would be a fight for him to be quiet throughout the entire thing. And her former taichou, who was now completely comfortable, with an arm slung out along the back of the couch, nodded lazily.

"Ok."

She closed her eyes briefly, images flashing through her mind, before opening them and staring out the window to the lovely purple dusk falling outside.

"One Sunday, seventy-six years ago, I went missing. It wasn't unusual for me, but when I had been gone for over twelve hours, kaa-san was worried. She said I didn't come home until well after midnight, and when I did I just passed through the house…as if I wasn't really…there. The oddest thing, of course, is that I went to _her_ house in the first place; I had already moved in here and I had my rooms in the barracks, so going to her house was not normal behavior for me."

"She just helped me into bed in her spare room and left me there. She didn't know what was wrong and apparently I wouldn't say anything. I didn't look hurt, just exhausted, from what she said. But she worried, because I wasn't—I wasn't me, I guess you could say."

"She was more right than she knew. I wasn't really there, and by the next morning I had no idea what had happened; I couldn't remember anything about the day before. At all. Not where I had been, who I had been with, none of it. I was worried and anxious for a few days, and I finally realized there was only one way to finally find out—I went to one of our unseated shinigami in the Eighth, Ishika Juro."

"He—his zanpakutou—he specializes in mind alteration and illusion. He was able to help me regain my memories of that day by the middle of the week." She stopped, shaking her head. "We were—_horrified_—we couldn't tell _who_—"

She choked.

Breathing was becoming impossible.

"It is alright, Minako-san. Slowly, now."

She nodded, biting her lip.

"All I remember was waking up to a man, _on top of me_, and I finally realized what he was doing—I'm sure I was drugged—and he—he-he continued until…and I couldn't fight back. There was no way to _fight_! My vision was blurry, I was tied or-or-r chained or—something. Finally, he—"

She felt her body trying to throw up what she had just eaten, the memory getting to her.

"Finally—he—"

Her vision suddenly sharpened. She could see her uncle's hands in her peripheral vision, his grip slowly clenching and unclenching around his cane. And Kyouraku-taichou's grip on the couch was so tight she could almost see the wood that made up its frame.

And Unohana-taichou, still sympathetic, was sitting there, listening quietly, supporting her.

Wasn't this what she had wanted? Someone to believe her, finally? A woman to erase the hated figure in her memory and prove that most women would not watch another member of their gender go through that?

It didn't matter that it hadn't been a woman—she had seen a woman, and it stayed that way in her memory.

She pulled herself back together, breathing in and out slowly.

"Finally he…_finished_. When he left, a woman came over, and she told me he was done, that I could—could rest. I just remember being _so angry_, and so much of it was at _her_. She was a woman! Why would she willingly sit back a-a-a-nd watch?"

She put her hands together in lap, fitting them together so tightly she could see white at her knuckles.

"And then I was unconscious. I don't know how long. It couldn't have been too long, though. What came next—I've been through it since, twice, and it usually takes time. For me to have only been gone fourteen hours—"

She sighed, looking at her uncle.

"You knew I had reached bankai already. You were one of _three_ people that had actually seen it."

He nodded.

"The other two—I had never, ever considered either of them untrustworthy, and it killed me afterward. Whoever had _done_ this—the man that—_raped me_—knew I had reached bankai and what form it took. The, the woman taunted me about it later."

"But the last time I remember waking up, wherever they had taken me, I remember seeing the woman holding Hidaruma over me, I remember watching as _my blade_ cut into my stomach. The pain—obviously," she chuckled, "it was painful. But it wasn't anything unusual. It wasn't the first time I had been stabbed. But then she, she pushed it _further_. I kept waiting—there's that-that feeling, when steel slides through flesh, and I never felt it."

"The hilt of Hidaruma was next to my skin and then, I realized it had disappeared. And all I remember of that time was the _agony_—it-it-it—I can't say anything more than agony. Like fire ripping your body into a thousand pieces. I passed out, apparently, and somehow got home."

She took a deep breath. The hardest part was over now.

Well, most of it. She wasn't sure how much her uncle knew of the next months, and she had a feeling tears might be included in this explanation.

"Shortly after we found out, I came home and told you, Gen-oji-san, and kaa-san what had happened. You were _there_; I don't need to repeat what happened that night. Suffice it to say, you didn't—you didn't _believe_ me, so I just shut up about it and buried it."

"That rarely works, Minako-san."

"I know," she breathed, "trust me. It didn't. My work was off, I wasn't sleeping, I couldn't eat…I wasn't myself. Taichou called in Isane one day, made her sit and talk to me. I know he was hoping I would tell her what was bothering me, since I had blankly refused to tell him, but I didn't. Instead, I just tried to bury it deeper, hoping that he wouldn't," she chanced a glance up at him and found his eyes locked on her, "notice it was still bothering me. I think I succeeded, at least a little, although I know I was still not up to par."

"And then, about two months later, I was sick. Every morning, every night. I couldn't eat due to the nausea. I was tired, but I couldn't sleep because of the nightmares—I went to the only person—_she was the one person I knew I could trust_—and she told me I was _pregnant_."

She heard her uncle's sudden intake of breath.

"I couldn't, _no_, I didn't _want_ to believe it. And I wasn't going to have the child of some _bastard_ that had only been able to get it there because he had to _force _me! But the _fear_—we were scared, not only because we had kept it from you, Unohana-taichou, but because any abor-tion," she heard his breath hitch again, right after her own, and she couldn't hold back the tears anymore.

"Any abortion had to go through _you_. You would have told Gen-oji-san, and I couldn't—I couldn't let you do that!" she said tearfully, her voice almost too low to hear, staring at the woman across from her.

She suddenly shifted, turning as far away from her uncle as possible.

"I couldn't—taichou would have been disappointed and upset, and oji-san would have _killed_ me. I worked my entire life to get to where I was, the entire time those _idiots_ in _Central_ telling me they didn't need another Yamamoto running things, two was enough, and then _this!_ I would have been pushed out of the squad, I would have dishonored my family, disappointed _everyone—"_

She sobbed.

"I just couldn't! So we—we made our plan and I got leave to go to the human world. I spent the first four days or so trying to find a doctor to perform th-th-e _abortion_, and I spent the last three in agony as the abortifacients failed to do anything. In the end, he told me I was obviously not pregnant, so I had gone through all that pain _for nothing!"_

She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of the kimono, trying to calm down. Yet again, the hard part was over. The rest was pain, yes, but she had handled pain before. She could handle talking about psychical pain.

"I went to Urahara and Yoruichi. I got the information from Kuukaku. The foreign reiatsu was still there, but after a few months, it was obvious I was not pregnant. By that time, I couldn't come home. I had been labeled a traitor, a _deserter_, so I stayed with them."

"Urahara helped me adjust, get a job, and he helped me finally figure out what they had done to me. And Yoruichi—well, it took years, but the two of us finally managed to get me past everything else. I've been over it for decades; I've dated, lived a normal life. The memories c-can resurface, sometimes, but I can usually handle them."

She looked up at them, now, her eyes red and tear tracks still covering her face.

"We tried twice—tried so hard to figure out what he had done. We knew it had to do with my bankai. When I attempt it, though, now, it's not—not normal."

She motioned for her uncle to hand over the blade and he did so surprisingly quickly considering she had been in a cell until earlier today. She called to her sword spirit and felt his brush at the back of her mind, telling her it would be alright, that they were in it together and they would get through it together, no matter what happened.

"When I use bankai, my sword sinks into my flesh—it joins with me. I lose this form and take on—I can't really explain it, and I've never seen it, obviously. We join. We _become_ flame."

"That's not possible," her former taichou said breathlessly, his expression uncommonly serious.

"I promise, it is. And painful. The body isn't meant to do that; rearranging particles on an elemental level _hurts_. When I go into bankai and when I come out. The first time, I was only able to hold it for a few seconds, and then I was out again, Urahara and Yoruichi screaming at me because I had literally ripped my skin open trying to reform."

"I had burned my retinas, charred every organ—I couldn't breathe at all. I just remember Urahara screaming that my eyes _were_ open, and I couldn't see him and I panicked, and everything went black."

"I had a heart attack, apparently. It was weeks before I woke up, and it took me months to fully recover my reishi."

"So we trained, and trained, and Sh—and my partner beat the shit out of me, trying to get me to toughen up, to be able to take it. Urahara was sure that if they could raise my pain threshold to the point that I wouldn't pass out, I could use the technique."

She shook her head.

"The second time—the second time was worse."

"I was able to hold the form for over four minutes, that's when I stopped counting, and the pain went away after the initial transformation. Unfortunately, my body had no intention of going through the pain of reforming, and I fought to go back—to—to remember what having a body _meant_."

They were staring at her in horror.

_Yes, you finally realized what a freak I am. How do you think I feel?_

"I was able to stay conscious, although the pain was, obviously, worse when I was awake. I felt every single part of my body as it reformed. But when I finally did, and Hidaruma and I were separated again, I was once again blind and unable to breathe. I'm completely useless when I come out of bankai. There was no heart attack that time, and it took less time to recover my reiatsu, but the pain is—it's unimaginable. And it stays there, too. I get cold easily in winter—I can feel fire in ways people can't—I'm in tune with it, almost. But I have to watch my temper, because I lose it very easily, and if I lose my temper or my emotional control it fights to come out."

She paused, looking at her uncle.

"And you threw me in a _cold_ _pond_," she said dryly. "The shishi is _pissed_ at how cold he is right now."

"It's not a separate entity, _really_, but it feels like one. I always have part of something inside me. Urarhara is convinced it's actually part of Hidaruma inside me, and he might be right. We've never been _entirely _sure about any of it. But there is an extra reiatsu inside of me, and if I can't keep control—it—it fights me. Goes out of control like kidō."

"Hidaruma has helped, thankfully. We control it well, especially now. But—" she looked at her uncle, who wouldn't meet her eyes, "I haven't attempted it since. I won't, unless I have absolutely _no choice."_

"_Central_ would have had me _put down _like a _dog_. They were always that way—if it wasn't normal, just kill it and cover it up. So I guess it was good I didn't come back, in the end. And I'm not sure if anyone other than Urahara could have helped me learn to control it."

Her breath whooshed out of her lungs, and she felt her entire body deflate.

She leaned back against the couch, finally just pulling her feet up next to her and getting comfortable. They were all staring at her, almost through her, and she could literally hear the cogs turning in their brains. She knew questions were coming, and she wanted to be as comfortable as possible for any interrogation.

"If—if you have questions, I'll answer them the best I can," she stuttered, embarrassed over the whole situation but at the same time, almost light, now that the entire thing was off her chest and out in the open.

"They healed you, afterward," Unohana-taichou asked, her voice very quiet.

"I suppose so," she said, fiddling with the hem of the kimono again. "I was in no pain, from—anything—that had gone on that night. There are some scars, of course."

The room fell quiet.

"You still didn't say _who_," her former taichou said, his voice harsh considering the man it came from.

She closed her eyes.

"I don't want to, really. It will only cause problems." She opened her eyes and stared at him, though, raising her eyebrows.

"Although, I think you already know who was involved, even if he didn't—even if he wasn't the one. I still have my doubts about exactly _who_."

"_Aizen,"_ her uncle whispered, his voice guttural and low.

She just nodded.

"He knew I had achieved bankai. He had heard Hiyori bitching about it one day, when Shinji was out with us. He would have known. And he had the power to make Gin appear as a female—I _knew_ I knew that voice, that it did _not_ belong to that woman."

"But you have doubts," Kyouraku said, looking at her shrewdly.

She shrugged. There were things she knew she couldn't tell them. If they thought Aizen was behind it everything would be easier for her in the long run. If they knew the truth—things would only get worse. He was involved, in a roundabout way, but if they only knew everything…

There was no telling what the outcome would be.

"Do you know what he was trying to achieve, Minako-san?"

"I wish," she said, giving Unohana-taichou an apologetic look. "Although, you can bet he was testing out something he wanted to attempt on himself. It's all about power with him, right?"

There were distracted nods.

"And it could be powerful, I mean, if he finished it. Becoming your bankai? It would be unreal. Especially for elementals—you can't be stabbed, be put out. But the pain, the toll it takes on the body makes it unusable unless you have no other alternative. It's unstable, extremely unstable. It tooks us almost a decade of focusing on it daily to learn to fight back the urge. And truthfully, I don't see what good it would do on an illusion zanpakutou, really. What would he achieve with it?"

_I know what he could achieve with it, my dear. If it had been him._

Hidaruma smiled evilly in her mind.

_Shut up, shishi. Not now._

_You won't tell them, then?_

She ignored him.

Unohana-taichou was looking off to left, perplexed. Hopefully she could figure out what he was attempting to do with it. It would give them a task and get them off her back about it all.

"Well, Minako-san, I will think this over carefully. There might still be something we can do for you." She rose from the couch gracefully, heading to the door after a careful bow to Gen-oji-san, but stopped halfway there.

"Isane is not in any trouble, Minako-san. It was so long ago, and I cannot fault her for trying to help a friend. Of course, that is only true as long as there is no…repetition. I can forgive you both the first mistake, but no secrets from now on, yes?"

"Of course, Unohana-taichou."

"You might also consider dropping by my office tomorrow."

She nodded and the graceful taichou nodded back, continuing on her way.

"Shunsui, is there anything else you wish to say?" her uncle asked, pointedly.

"Most of it we've already cleared up, Yama-jii." He looked at her, very serious. "You should have told me. Minako, I would have helped you in any way possible, and after being in my squad for almost a century, you should have known that by then."

She nodded, abashed and ashamed.

"I was—so scared."

"I understand that, Minako," he said softly. "But do you think you are the first to try and keep something from Yama-jii?" He sent her a lopsided smile. "If it came to it, I would've."

Then he turned to her uncle, his face taking on an emotion she didn't think she had ever seen before. "I'll speak to you tomorrow, Yama-jii. We'll finish our conversation then."

Her uncle nodded at her former taichou, who left swiftly and silently, most likely returning to his quarters and a bottle of sake.

She and her uncle were left sitting there, silent, side by side.

She could feel the fluctuations in his reiatsu as he ran through everything he had learned; surely he knew most of it by now, but it was also different finally hearing it from her. She knew that. She knew it also had to have hurt him more, to actually hear it from her lips, in her voice.

"I am sorry, Gen-oji-san," she said, her voice small and childlike.

"You thought I would berate you for a child?" She heard the cracking in his voice, and her tears were once again on the verge of returning; the idea of reducing this great man to this state…

"I didn't want you to be disappointed in me!" she cried.

His fingers lifted her chin up, making her look him in the eye.

"A child, no matter how it is conceived, would never be a burden to our family."

He leaned toward her, his arm coming to rest around her shoulders as he pulled her smaller frame to his.

"_I _would have helped you, Momo-chan."

The tears started, as did the sobbing, and she clutched the front of his haori. He let his cane drop to the floor, joining Hidaruma, and brought his other arm around her, engulfing her in his presence. She could feel it all, just waiting to tumble out, and if anyone could help her hold it all, he could.

"_I—Why didn't you believe me?" _she screamed, sobbing.

His hand rubbed her back, gently, and they stayed there, still, until she had finished crying out the pain she had kept bottled inside the pasty eighty years.

* * *

A/N: Hopefully you all picked up on that—Aizen is being used as a scapegoat. He wasn't the one who actually did it. I've made sure to make it clearer, as there was an issue with that in my first drafts.

Japanese lesson in Ch. 8.


	9. Chapter 8

A/N: Once again, everything important lurks in the first two chapters' notes, and everything important for this week's update is located in the previous chapter.

And I once again apologize for any errors; I beta and edit and check these chapters but occasionally something skips through merrily. Feel free to point them out and I'll change them. Except for the usage of reiatsu and reishi; I know there are some errors there, and I'm trying to fix my usage of the two terms. I'm still sometimes unsure of which I should use.

R & R if you like! They've definitely been helping me through writer's block (not to worry, I don't even have half of what's written posted yet!).

Enjoy!

* * *

"The Noble Sort"

* * *

She could hear him, sitting at the low kotatsu in the dining area off of the kitchen. There was a sound eating made, somehow, that musical lullaby of plates and chopsticks and cups hitting saucers.

She was afraid to go in there.

Everything in her past had been settled the night before—but the future…

But she was carrying her zapakutou, too. When the tears had finally stopped, and he had helped her up to her bedroom—which hadn't changed since she had left all those years ago—he had left Hidaruma with her, right by the bed. It had been an unspoken signal that she could have the sword, and she was grateful.

She felt funny wearing her human clothes with it, but she didn't dare put on one of the old shinigami uniforms in her closet; she _wasn't_ a shinigami, and like Shinji, she wasn't sure she would come back if they said she could.

Her hatred of them wasn't deep like his—only Aizen had caused her betrayal. Central had not threatened to lock her up or kill her.

She might be lying to herself, though. Part of her relished in being home, in just being back.

_Leniency. I could always go back to the "parole" plan._

And she probably should. Behave as well as she possibly could until she found out what their plans for her were or until she saw a clear chance to escape. She doubted it would come soon, but there had been bigger surprises in her life.

Still, it all just brought her back to the big question: _was she a prisoner?_

Hikaru bustled by, smiling at her after giving her human clothes a funny look, and she shot a tentative smile back.

How stupid she must seem, standing outside the room like this.

She took a deep breath and approached the door, standing silently in its frame.

He 'harrumphed' before reaching for one of the rice balls Hikaru had just set on the table.

"Are you going to eat, or stand there and stare at me like a fool?"

She looked away, a wistful smile flashing across her face.

She approached the table, going around to the other side and sitting on his left. It had always been her place, although it was strange without her mother across from her.

She was the epitome of politeness and propriety this morning, hoping that would not only help her case but also disarm any anger that might have lingered after yesterday's events.

"Your hair is very long."

She glanced down at the long ebony strands floating over her shoulder and falling softly below her breast. It was long, much longer than she had ever worn it.

"I grew it out. It was an easy way—" she stopped, not wanting to bring it up.

"To hide yourself, yes?"

"Hai, Gen-oji-san."

"I have not seen it that long since you were a little girl."

She smiled at him, and he went back to eating. A hushed silence fell, only broken by the sounds of their eating.

"It is…strange without kaa-san," she said, her voice low.

He looked up at her for a moment before nodding and returning to his meal. It drove her nuts, too—he was the only person she had ever seen be able to convey a _look_ without his eyes. Crazy old man.

"She had not eaten with me for years before her death. I have not stayed in this house for years, other than for a short rest now and then."

"Another thing I have to _thank_ Aizen for," she muttered.

He set his chopsticks down on the small saucer holding his bowl of miso, and just looked at her.

"I had not known you knew about her."

"We got news, Gen-oji-san. You know Urahara."

He huffed.

"Yes, I know how he is," he chuckled. His deep, raspy voice was something she had missed. Sometimes the guilt was too much; she had missed her uncle more than her mother, although it was her mother's fault too. Her mother was frequently too busy for her child. After her father's death—she was so young, and she couldn't really remember him—her uncle had really been the one to raise her. It was why her bedroom was in his home, instead of her mother's, why her things were here. As soon as she had been old enough she had moved in here.

Her mother had eaten breakfast and dinner with them every night, though, before going to her own home. Minako had sometimes wondered if it was guilt over their failed relationship.

"I think he knows what goes on here before even _you _do, oji-san," she said playfully.

He flicked his chopsticks at her.

"Insolence," he muttered, but she could hear the teasing tone in his voice.

They ate much of the meal silently, a few muttered observations passing between them, and she silently wondered where all her anger had gone. Had it really all been settled so quickly?

Maybe. Maybe not.

She feared it might just be lurking underneath the elation she felt. It had been years since she had been here, and she had convinced herself that she loved her little life in the human world, but she had always known that she missed her family, her friends here.

Suddenly the door slid open, and her uncle looked up at the newcomer, nodding his head and gesturing to the seat on his right.

_My babysitter, perhaps?_

Ukitake-taichou nodded and smiled at both of them.

"It is a beautiful day outside, Genryuusai-sensei," he said, his tone upbeat and, as always, happy and content.

"Hm."

She looked at both them, exasperated.

"I take it you are my babysitter today, Ukitake-taichou?"

The pale man looked up at her, shocked.

"_Babysitter?_ Of course not, Minako-san. I am your escort for today." He smiled at her, and she had the feeling that this man was used to his mere presence lighting up a room. "I have been told you are to visit Unohana-san, and then we have a meeting at the First Division."

He looked up at the ceiling, as if he was trying to remember something.

"Ah, yes! Ise-san also mentioned that she wanted to meet you for lunch, if Genryuusai-sensei approved. I get the feeling she is bursting to talk to you, although you would never know it from looking at her."

Minako smiled, delighted at the idea of lunch with her old friend.

"Gen-oji-san?" She looked at him, questioning, and received a grunt in the affirmative.

Excellent.

Her uncle suddenly sat his chopsticks down and finished off his tea, rising from the table. She struggled to stuff the last of her rice ball into her mouth—she still felt hungry—and she and Ukitake-taichou rose as well.

Like two children knowing exactly what their parent was preparing for—which they did, considering how long they had both known the man—they followed him to the front door.

"Behave yourself, Minako." He turned to look at Juushirou momentarily before stepping off the porch. "Take her to the human realm; get whatever she wants to keep from that _thing_ she calls a home. I'll see you both this afternoon."

"Gen-oji-san—!"

It was too late; he was already gone.

* * *

Less than an hour later they were in the human realm, appearing in an alley right down from her apartment building. She was anxious, not understanding whether or not she needed to grab just the things she wanted for a few days or everything she wanted.

She settled for the idea of just grabbing what she would wish to have with her if this stay turned into a long one. She was hoping to see her apartment again soon, and would have to either way to deal with the furniture and landlord.

As they finally approached the door, the walk having been spent in contemplative silence on her part, she muttered, "I don't think he realizes what he's asking."

"You have that many things, Minako-san?"

She looked at him, his calm and content face staring back and her, and nodded.

"I'm female."

He looked perplexed, and then his facial expression cleared, realization finally dawning on him.

"Of course. My sisters are the same."

She sent him a grin before entering and felt Hidaruma wake simultaneously.

_What are you so happy about this morning? This smiling idiot?_

_Baka!_ She shouted in her mind. _Stupid shishi. He's one of the strongest taichou in Seireitei. Do you not remember him?_

_Not really. I, _he chuckled darkly, _definitely don't remember you having that reaction to him. _

_Shut it, you overgrown tanuki._

He huffed.

Ruri and Kiri bounded up to them as soon as they entered, meowing.

"I think they'll have to be taken to Urahara's for a while. Yoruichi and Ururu will take care of them. I can't just leave them here, all alone."

She walked down the hall to the closet, the kittens close to her the entire time, and pulled out a very large, very red suitcase.

"This'll have to do for now, I suppose."

She glanced at him, bent down to the ground so he could tease Ruri.

"I'll concentrate on clothing and toiletries, if you could get the things on the table, there."

She pointed to a thin but long table that rested against the wall in the kitchen. It had most of the important things on it; furniture and everything else was replaceable, but those were special.

"Hai, Minako-san."

Once he was busy with that, she turned quickly to her bedroom. She grabbed a small bag from underneath her bed and hurriedly threw all the things she needed from the bathroom into it, and then started on her clothing.

In the top drawer were some photos and a lacquer box, which had to go with her, but she had to make sure that they weren't seen. If anyone ever found out about the Visoreds—or some of the other things hidden in the box—before she was ready, it would be a problem.

She folded them up in a haori and put them at the bottom of the suitcase.

She was in the middle of packing some of her more human clothing when she heard her phone, now perched on her dresser, beep loudly.

She quickly crossed the room, glancing at the screen.

_14 missed calls, _it read.

_Shit!_

Scrolling through the list, she saw most of them were Lisa, one from Hiyori, and the occasional call from Rin. They had either thought she would escape or be let go fairly quickly. There was one from her boss, as well, although it didn't really matter now—she would end up having to look for a new job either way.

She quickly unplugged the phone from the charger and dialed Lisa's number, hoping she could at least let them know she was well and to take her cats to Urahara.

"_Minako. We've been calling you—"_

"I noticed. How many times, huh? Worried about me?" she replied, amusement thick in her voice.

"_Making sure you weren't dead."_

"Not dead, obviously. But I'm not here long; I have to go back."

"_Then why are you home? Fucking shinigami, always—"_

"I had to get some things. But I'm currently not in jail, and I'm—"

"Minako-san?"

She whirled around, coming face to face with Ukitake-taichou.

"Ukitake-taichou! You startled me."

"_Ukitake-taichou is in your house?" _She heard Lisa shout through the phone.

His face had lost the calm exterior from earlier, and he looked worriedly at her and then at the phone near her ear.

"I'm not sure you should be talking to anyone right now."

"_Shinji said you weren't in trouble. I knew it, I just knew I couldn't believe the stupid bastard. He's such a liar."_

She quickly brought her hand up to cover the speaker on the phone, hoping he hadn't heard Lisa or her ranting already.

"I was just making sure a friend of mine knew to take the cats over to Urahara's. It won't take long."

He gave her a look, but he grudgingly backed out of the room. She was sure, though, he was staying in listening range so he would know what she said.

"Listen, I've got to go. Just get the cats to Urahara's for me? I don't know when I'll be back, and I don't want them to be here alone."

"_I'll take care of your stupid cats. But seriously, Minako, if you're in deep, you need to just tell me. I'll help you out."_

"I really don't know yet," she murmured.

"_Take your phone with you. Call if you need anything. And don't clean out your bottom drawer; if I have to take care of your cats, I deserve a reward."_

"Of course. Bye, girl."

"_Be careful."_

She pushed the end button and made sure he wasn't able to see her when she threw the phone in with some of the clothes.

He appeared a few minutes later, all of the items securely packaged and stored in a small box. He had even taken the time to wrap some of the more fragile items in dishcloths she kept on the small shelf next to the sink, something she was thankful for. Every one of them had a special meaning.

"I think that's it, really. Other than the cats, and I have someone coming over to get them soon."

They walked out of the apartment, and she locked the door behind her. They made it all the way out of the apartment before he glanced over at her, the worried look back on his face.

"Who was that, just then? On the phone?"

"Oh, just a friend." Even she could hear the shakiness of her voice, and she cursed herself. _Really need to get back in the swing of lying to the uppers._

"Her voice sounded familiar."

They entered the alley, stopping and waiting for the door to appear.

She looked over at him, her bitterness clearly written on her face.

"Of course it did. She knows Urahara. We _traitors_ stick together."

His mouth dropped open and then clicked shut quickly. Obviously, he had nothing to say to that.

It didn't matter anyway. Juushirou had already recognized the voice on the phone.

* * *

This was turning into the day that wouldn't end.

They had quickly taken her things back to the house and left them in her room, and then hurried over to the Fourth. They were already running late, apparently, and if she wanted to make lunch with Nanao she would have to be quick about this. Although, something told her lunch wouldn't happen, not with it being almost eleven now and them having to be in the First Division's HQ by one.

There were quickly ushered through the building to a large, open examination room that was in the very back of the medical quarters, close to Unohana-taichou's office. This was her personal room, usually reserved for severe cases or the upper echelon of the shinigami forces.

Unohana-taichou was waiting on them patiently when they arrived, although there was not even a remote attempt at small talk before she began. She had Minako up on a medical bed before she could blink, sitting there while the taichou's reiatsu flowed over her body. Ukitake-taichou was pointed toward a chair in the corner, out of the way.

Isane was in the room as well, sitting at a small desk and writing down anything Unohana-taichou said. She did look up once, though, and smiled brightly at Minako.

Minako was just happy one of her oldest friends was not in trouble, happy to see her, and willing to continue the friendship. She wasn't sure how many of her former friends in Seireitei would even speak to her now.

"I understand now, Minako-san. It does read as if you are pregnant." She nodded at the medical taichou, used to the observation. "Do you still suffer from symptoms?"

"No. Urahara said it was most likely my body trying to adjust."

"He is probably correct," she murmured, still focusing on the readings she was getting.

"It is—not separate from you, really, but distinct. Much like a fetus. It is attached to you but also…_on its own._ This is very strange."

The awe she felt was clear to everyone in the room.

"Isane," she motioned toward her fuku-taichou, "come try yourself. Tell me if anything seems to have changed from the first time you examined Minako-san."

Isane, blushing, did as she was told, her reiatsu flowing over Minako as well.

"No. It's still the same. Although—it feels—calmer, maybe? I'm not sure how to explain it."

"It is very likely that the foreign reiatsu settled after being in position longer," Unohana said, putting her hand on Isane's shoulder and turning her back toward the desk.

The taichou did not bear any resentment to the females for their deception, but she had to focus and she would not be able to do so if they were too busy focusing on each other. It would detract from what they were trying to accomplish.

She separated some of her own reiatsu, molding it in a way only medical shinigami were able, and focused it directly beside the small ball of foreign reiatsu. As if giving her own reiatsu a finger, she poked the foreign ball of spiritual energy tentatively.

_Tell her to stop that._

There was no discernable reaction other than a slight tightening of Minako's eyes, so she poked at it again, this time with slightly more force.

Minako tightened her hands on the side of the bed.

_I'm serious. Tell her to stop that._

Unohana-taichou's reiatsu was then pulled back and reshaped, and she tried to fully enclose the other in her own. She was trying to build a small reiatsu shield that would come between Minako and the foreign object.

_That's enough! Make her stop, now!_

"Unohana-taichou, please stop," Minako forced out between her gritted teeth.

"I am sorry, Minako-san. For us to figure out what this is, I must examine it."

_Examine? She's gonna kill us!_

Minako was ready to agree with Hidaruma. She could feel her heart rate increasing, her breathing becoming labored. The feeling of fire just underneath her skin was becoming overpowering, and she would have to calm down soon.

Unfortunately, Hidaruma was freaking out. What one felt, the other felt. It hadn't been like this _before_, but it was now and they had gotten used to it after decades of experience. Whatever Unohana-taichou was doing, it was hurting and scaring Hidaruma, which meant her own emotions were reacting as if she was scared and hurting.

The medical taichou once again tried to fully engulf the foreign reiatsu, and Hidaruma screamed in agony.

Minako shut her eyes, trying to focus on her breathing.

"You're hurting him_,_" she hissed, her voice breathless and raspy.

Unohana-taichou looked up but continued to try and slide a barrier of her own reiatsu between the foreign one and Minako's soul chain.

Then, out of nowhere, an air of tension came over the room. Something shifted, and everyone in the room tensed.

"_You're hurting_ _me_."

All three shinigami looked up from the scan to Minako's face, disbelief clear in their facial expressions.

"_I don't know who you are, but if you do that again I'm gonna hit you, lady._"

Unohana-taichou quickly drew back her reiatsu and backed up a few steps, bumping into Ukitake-taichou, who had since abandoned his chair to see what was going on.

"Who are you, then?" she asked.

"_I am her. She is me. You are hurting me. So you are hurting her. Stop it."_

"You are Hidaruma," Ukitake-taichou said breathlessly.

"_Sometimes._" The dark voice they could now hear spoke with heavy amusement. "_Sometimes I am the baka-shishi. I wish to be called Kagutsuchi, but she will not allow it. I even would have settled for Agni—she thinks it would be too much for my ego."_

The last bit was said mournfully, as if it was a heavy blow to the sword spirit. Both of the taichou would have smiled at the petulant tone had it been any other situation.

"This is impossible, Unohana-taichou." There was fear in Isane's voice.

"It should be, Isane, but remember that before Muramasa's intervening, we believed they could not be out of their sword form, either, at least when visible to others."

Unohana stepped closer to Minako.

"Is it your reiatsu, then?"

"_Of course it is. I wouldn't allow anyone else in here. What kind of zanpakutou do you think I am?"_

"You should not be in there," Ukitake-taichou said, sounding as if he was scolding a disobedient child.

"_You,"_ the voice said wryly. _"I have many things to say to you, most of which you will not like."_

"What have I done to you?" Ukitake-taichou said in disbelief. But it was soon gone, once again replaced with the scolding tone of a parent. "You need to listen and get out of her body."

Minako shut her eyes, and her head shook back and forth.

"_Not yet, my dear. I must finish this conversation."_

"You are controlling her then, Hidaruma-san?" Unohana asked.

"_I would not dare!" _he said, affronted. "_But she wants to speak, and I am not done yet. It's rude to interrupt—no, Minako, let me finish."_

"_She will learn not to prod at me again." _The voice was suddenly as cold as ice, sending tremors racing through the shinigami. "_You wish to fix in a few hours what we have dealt with for almost a century. If you continue, you will reap what you sow, the same way that blond idiot did."_

"Urahara-san, you mean?" Unohana-taichou asked.

Minako nodded slowly.

Juushirou, a sudden thought hitting him, quickly moved back to the corner and shouted in surprise at what he saw.

The sword was not in its sheath.

"How did you do that?" he said, his disapproval evident.

"I am sorry, Hidaruma-san, but you must leave her body. It is not safe for her."

Unohana's voice had taken on a touch of steel, and her reiatsu once again flowed into Minako's body. She didn't even get it close to the ball of foreign reiatsu, which was now glowing brightly and much more intertwined with Minako's soul chain, before the screaming started.

It was an eerie, otherworldly sound, two voices coming from one body. And it was pure anguish, as if she had not just approached the soul chain but tried to sever it.

She quickly cut off her reiatsu, fearing either a backlash or an attack, but the only reaction she got was the collapse of Minako, who folded over herself and hugged her stomach with her arms.

She was breathing harshly, and her skin was red and blotchy from what was identified as a high fever once Unohana felt her skin. Her pulse was thready and quick, her carotid pulsing quickly.

Minako suddenly gasped, and then she slumped to the left, almost falling off the bed. Fortunately Ukitake-taichou moved quickly enough that he was able to stop her fall and get her back on the bed in a steady position.

"You shouldn't—shouldn't have done that," she rasped.

"How—"

"We're joined. He knows everything I do, and vice versa. And when you prod at him, it flares it up. Makes the connection easier."

She raised her head to look at them, and they gasped at the sight of her eyes. The pupils were cracked and had a brushed look to them, no longer gleaming black. And the typical dark maroon shade of her irises, too red to be brown, had faded to a dull yellow.

Both eyes had a slimy white film over them, looking much like cataracts but at the same time, different. It covered all of the eye, not just the pupil, and was obviously resting at a different layer.

"You'll have to heal it as quickly as possible. Th-the dark, not being able to see—it's—I'm glad I knew where I was and who I was with."

She chuckled dryly.

"Just be thankful I won the argument. Otherwise, you'd be through that wall right now. Hidaruma has nothing against striking when you least expect it."

* * *

A/N: Lisa's personality is going to be just a little different. She's going to still be, well, standoffish, but they would have both been in the Eighth at the same time for years, so I'm giving them a past together as friends, as we've seen in the Pendulum arc that she was a little more open at that point. She was also the only one who wanted to speak to someone from her past—I don't think those connections are as buried as she might want.

And the Japanese Lesson for this week:

_Gaki_ is child, usually meant in a derogative way, like immature

_Sudoku_ is a puzzle game with numbers

_Jii-jii_ is "old man" or "gramps"

_Ahou_ is fool

_Haori_ is a coat or heavy shirt, can be a jacket

_Oji-san_ is uncle

_Ichi_ is one

_Kaa-san_ is mother, a very informal way to say it

_Kotatsu _is a winter table with a blanket to keep it warm underneath

_Onigiri_ (rice balls) are a traditional Japanese food with rice and usually something inside them like fish or bean paste

_Baka_ is idiot

_Tanuki_ is a raccon dog

_Visored _is the Kubo way of spelling Vizard, according to the soul book

_Kagutsuchi _is a fire god

_Agni _is an Indian fire god, related to Buddhism which is popular in Japan

_Muramasa_ was a filler-arc character that tried to lead a zanpakutou uprising, very interesting if you want to see their human forms


	10. Chapter 9

A/N: Most of the important information is in the first two parts. And I'll apologize in advance for the now every-two-weeks update schedule; I'm prepping for the GRE, having to pick up two new foreign languages so I can be ready to go for my PhD, and starting a business at the same time. Busy doesn't even cover real life at the moment. Nevermind the fact that I finally had the time to sit and play FFXIII for the first time, and I'm a little addicted.

But on the plus side, Kubo has finished the big battle between Ichigo and Aizen, which means I can finally continue writing. It's been holding me back for almost a month and a half now.

Ah! And someone asked about Nanao and Shunsui—rest assured, they will actually play quite a large part in this story. I'm at about chapter 20 in my editing and the battle isn't finished, and there is a large portion of this story that will take place after the final battle. The battle is only a pit stop in the long road of this story. So be patient, it's there. We just have to get there first.

Finally, thanks to those who've reviewed, favorited, etc. It helps me write that much more quickly and keeps me interested in this myself!

R &R if you've enjoyed the chapters, have any comments, etc.!

Enjoy!

* * *

"The Noble Sort"

* * *

Unohana and Ukitake were both late for the meeting, arriving almost twenty minutes after Yamamoto and Kyouraku. They had to take the extra time to heal Minako's eyes and throat, as well as escort her to the building bodily. Her eyesight was back, but her eyes were tender and she kept them as closed as possible the entire time they were outside.

They were the only four that knew everything at this point, at least in the Seireitei. It was decided the information would go no further.

Instead of assembling as they normally would for such a meeting, everyone was casual. Only Yamamoto was in his normal position at the front of the room.

"Well, Retsu?"

"It's unbelievable, to be honest. I don't think I would believe it if I hadn't seen it, felt it, for myself."

The awe was still written on her face, as if she was still having trouble accepting what she had seen. Yamamoto doubted she had ever seen such a case in her time as a taichou, which spanned more centuries than he cared to remember.

"Genryuusai-sensei, he can _become_ her. When prodded, they join." His eyebrows knitted together, his face showing his displeasure. "He is most obstinate."

"The fire-types usually are," Yamamoto said dryly.

He had enough experience with his own to know that. They were stubborn, sometimes annoying, but loyal to a fault.

"No matter what we told him, he would not leave her body! And they were obviously arguing over control, according to Minako-san. He would not listen at all!"

Kyouraku fought the urge to laugh at his friend's disgruntled mood.

"It is true; he does seem very dark. Although, only toward other people. He referred to Minako-san as "my dear" and was very upset with the idea of her being hurt, or us believing he would hurt her," Unohana said.

"Is she dangerous, Retsu-san?" Kyouraku asked, almost fearing the answer.

"Not in the least. Nor is he, I think. This is not like Baishin, although I have many questions about that specific incident now. He was in pain, I believe, and upset that she was as well."

Her normal tone of peace and tranquility was finally beginning to return, although it was taking time. There was still something else there, left over from the amazing experience.

"She was able to control him before he tried to harm me. He only threatened me after I tried repeatedly to cut off the connection between her soul chain and his reiatsu."

"They are not—joined—as Baishin and his zanpakutou were."

She turned toward Yamamoto.

"It is as if there are two conscious entities sharing her body, yet not. They reside together, but he also resides in his sword." Her voice lowered. "If the melding of their minds is that incredible, I only wonder what the melding of their bodies is like."

"But Unohana-taichou!" Ukitake exclaimed, aghast. "If she was in pain then, only imagine—"

"There is pain when they join?" Yamamoto asked, suddenly anxious but not letting it show.

"Not exactly. Only when I attempted to begin to sever the connection was Minako-san in pain. During the early part of the examination there was some anxiety, but no pain."

The room was quiet for a long moment, everyone pondering the situation they now found themselves in.

"Still, they are very closely tied, too closely. They seem to feel each other's emotions, share pain, and even consider each other as one being when they are meshed. I can't remember precisely what he said, but "You are hurting her, you are hurting me" is very close. "I am her; she is me" perhaps?"

"Yare," Kyouraku breathed, his hand coming up to massage his eyes.

"He also disappeared from his sheath. From what you said, Kyouraku, I thought it only happened when she used bankai. Apparently, he can do so at will and join with her."

"I do not think so, Ukitake-taichou. I believe that is on an entirely different scale. When the sword disappeared, their conscious minds meshed. I do not think their bodies, for lack of a better term, had joined. It would have shown up on my scan."

"But even this small meld was dangerous for Minako-san. The reiatsu flared, and for him to utilize her eyes and her voice box—there was damage."

"How much?" Yamamoto asked, fearing the answer.

"I was able to heal it, thankfully, but she had lost her sight and her larynx was severely damaged."

She stopped, looking at Yamamoto thoughtfully.

"Have you ever seen his physical manifestation?"

"He is a black dog."

"And that is all you know?" Her voice, usually gentle, had once again taken on the subtle steel the Eleventh Division feared so badly.

The sou-taichou sighed.

"He is a very large black dog."

She continued to stare at him.

"A," he sighed again, sure his niece would kill him after this, "hellhound, to be exact. _Ryouken Jigoku no Akazora, kaze-ni_, or something to that effect. It has been years since I've seen the blade used, but I believe it is along those lines. "

"Hellhound of the red sky, ride the wind? On the wind? I can't really remember either, Yama-jii. It's close enough, though. Might have missed a few words, but, eh," he said lazily.

"There is no way!" Ukitake exclaimed. "Sweet little Minako-san's zanpakutou turned out to be something so, so _dark?_"

Everyone heard the word he had suddenly exchanged in that sentence; the 'evil' was still evident in his tone.

"She's a _Yamamoto_. We are not known for our…tenderness." He chuckled. "Minako has always been more playful, and much sweeter than expected for my family. That can be attributed to her mother. But she is still a Yamamoto, and she can be fierce. She once got so angry with me she tried to chop my arm off during a training exercise."

"And her bankai, Rokumon no Genshukusa—it is a very large barrier utilizing six gate-like seals on different dimensional axes. She literally traps her enemies in a hell of her own making; you could compare it to the traitor, Tousen's, bankai, except the barrier is the key and not the effect inside. It is not nearly as powerful as my own, but it is able to hold an enemy for a greater amount of time. Unfortunately, her strength is not nearly enough to be able to just incinerate powerful enemies."

Ukitake just stood there, still shocked.

"I wouldn't let her hear you call her 'sweet little Minako-san' either," Kyouraku said dryly.

"A male hellhound," Unohana said, her voice low. "The sheer reishi that would be needed for him to use her eyes at his normal physical level and change her voice would explain the injuries. He will have to be taught to accept her physical form when they meld."

"Still, this is not what is most important right now."

"Indeed, Shunsui. She is of no danger to us?" Unohana shook her head. "And it is of no danger to her, except the pain felt during the transformation?" She nodded.

"Very well," he said, and everyone could hear the finality in his tone.

"Leave it be. There are much more important decisions to be made."

* * *

Meanwhile, the fuku-taichou of those in the meeting were in another room of the division headquarters, happily greeting their friend.

Minako and Isane had immediately burst into excited chatter, each trying to tell the other everything that had gone on in the last eighty years. They only stopped long enough for Nanao and Minako to exchange greetings and regrets about the missed lunch date and for Sasakibe to check her eyes once more using the small penlight Unohana-taichou had given him.

"You named him _what?"_ The others heard Isane exclaim. "What does that even _mean?"_

Minako laughed.

"Well, it isn't a term of endearment, I assure you. He deserved it, the big oaf. But now, whenever he comes around, Shi—" she glanced at the others before quickly correcting herself, "all of my friends call him that, too."

"Where did you even hear it?"

"American television show!"

_Which sucked, by the way._

They were discussing Minako's last—and truthfully, the only serious one since she left Seireitei—love interest. The only man she had ever found in the human world, other than the occasional one night stand, and he had been human. It was a sore subject.

Shinji had hated him the first time he had come over for something and met him, and she had dropped him not too long after; the tie was tenuous at best, other than Lisa and Shinji—occasionally Hiyori, when she wanted someone to beat on—and she wouldn't risk it. She knew the Visoreds were a connection she had to keep.

"He takes it in stride now, though."

There were so few of them in the human world that they tended to stick together, and a failed relationship didn't change that. Everything had gone back to normal in a few months, and it had quickly become a running joke amongst them all, even the ones that wouldn't talk to her: her failed attempt at a human romance. Lisa loved teasing her, telling her to write her own ladies' manga.

He had continued to be one of her better friends, and she missed him. But Matsu was fine, last she had heard from him. They still talked on the phone often, and he had accepted her lack of aging for a love of cosmetic surgery the last time they had gotten together for dinner.

_He was not worthy of you anyway. You don't need a man, either._

"B-but, oh Kami, Minako."

They both collapsed into laughter again.

_They're talking about me in there. I can tell._

Once the giggling stopped, Minako leaned in close. She dropped her voice to a whisper and asked, quickly and quietly, "And you? Made any moves on—"

"I moved on from that!" Isane said quickly, blushing and stuttering over the embarrassment of her previous crush.

_Are you ignoring me?_

Both girls looked up as a shadow fell across the floor in front of them.

Nanao was standing there, her normal book in her hands, and she looked nervous, which was unusual even when she was a teen. She had always been very sure of herself.

"Sit down! Join in."

She did so very self-consciously, still looking like someone might try to hug her in the next five seconds. Of course, she had survived being around Rangiku so she could surely survive them. Neither of the women she now found herself with were as touchy as Rangiku.

"And little Nanao, all grown up now!" Minako gave her a big smile. "You're just his type, you know."

"_I'm sorry?"_ she said, a vein on her forehead popping out.

"Taichou's, of course."

Nanao blushed.

Minako grinned slyly, able to read between the lines. He had already been putting the moves on the woman. And she _was_ his type—petite, dark-haired and fair-skinned, just a little too stiff to be seen as his normal match. She was the epitome of his desires, all his lustful wishes in one small package. The naughty librarian of his dreams, most likely.

She snickered behind her hand.

Both she and Lisa had been partly right. But he had never taken it further with them, not that they would have been receptive. Lisa was into, well, not men, and Minako never had any interest in the man _that_ way. But he wouldn't have tried; they were both too playful, too similar to himself.

Nanao, on the other hand, was perfect. Enough to keep him on his toes and in line, but still his type.

There was the small matter of her age, not that anyone ever paid attention to that. It was hard to when you lived centuries, sometimes millennia. Once you reached a certain age you were just considered an adult. Everyone tended to forget you might have grown up here.

"I bet he's all over you," she said teasingly, her eyes sparkling.

The petite woman blushed heavily while adjusting her glasses, her book shifting in her lap as she fidgeted.

"Do you push him away? You know that only makes him try harder."

Isane giggled, her hand coming up to mask the noise from the others in the room.

"I—" Nanao glanced around, still nervous and blushing, before continuing, "I try! But he's hard-headed."

"Or you don't really want to push him away," Isane said, her normally sweet and innocent tone laden with a tint of playfulness.

"It's embarrassing! He has no decent respect of privacy at all. He—he—"

"You have to give as good as you get. It's the only way to stop him," she said wryly, giving the fuku-taichou a sideways glance. "But I don't think that's what you want."

The poor woman, normally so pale, was beet red and looked incredibly nervous. Minako felt a moment of guilt for teasing her, but they really were cute together. And Nanao would have to learn to take it eventually.

"If he would just be discreet…" she said, the vein at her temple throbbing, most likely from anger at the remembrance of the many times his innuendo had made her uncomfortable in front of others.

"No chance, Nanao. You don't mind, do you, if I call you—" the woman shook her head and Minako sighed, relieved she hadn't overstepped a boundary.

Soon, though, all of the frivolity was out of her mind. She knew why Nanao would have originally sought her out today, either for lunch or a chat. She waved her hand through the air carelessly.

"But I doubt that's why you came over here." She leaned in and lowered her voice. Isane already knew, of course, but some of the people in this room—Sasakibe—didn't. She hoped he didn't, anyway, although she figured he did. Her uncle's right hand man usually knew everything, too. "She's fine. I talked to her earlier today, in fact, when they let me go home to get some things."

Nanao sighed in relief.

"Still the same, too. And wait until I tell her about you! She's gonna be jealous that I got to see you and she didn't. She might not act it, you know, but she does care about people. And I know she cared about you."

_I really don't appreciate the silent treatment. I was only protecting us._

Minako put her finger to her chin, thinking.

"Come to think of it…how did you know…"

"I'm not stupid. I also spend a great deal of time in the library. If you know where to look…I found the Central Forty-Six records of their trial."

Minako gave her a sympathetic look.

"It's kind of the biggest non-secret now, I know. After Shinji let some shinigami see him at an Arrancar battle, it's been pretty much blabbed everywhere. But we try to be quiet about it. All we need is all of them in my situation."

_Exactly. Our situation. I was trying to help. Stop ignoring me, onna._

"Your situation?" they both said, staring at her.

"Come on, guys," she said, her consternation showing. "I'm a prisoner. Don't let the fact that I have my zanpakutou fool you."

_Prisoner. Yet you get upset because I threatened one of them? _

_I will never understand the females of any species. Dog, shinigami—you are all the same!_

She got a faraway look on her face.

"Something tells me they are discussing me right now, even. Trying to figure out what to do with me."

She heard him sigh in her mind. She wanted to grin, but held it in.

_I just told you that. Stop ignoring me, Minako._

_Oh, for all that's holy in the world—_

_I'm sorry._

_And?_ she said in her mind.

_And I'm a baka-shishi, _he said grumpily.

_I love you anyway._

He just grumbled, although she could feel his happiness.

* * *

After the meeting, Kyouraku and Ukitake walked out to the courtyard together, where they would pick up their companions and head their separate ways.

There was one thing Ukitake wanted to mention to him, but he couldn't figure out a way to do it gently. While straightforward usually worked with his best friend, this was a sore subject.

He scratched the back of his head, coming to a stop on the long porch they were walking on.

"I, ah, I wanted to talk to you about something."

Kyouraku stopped, looking at him lazily.

"Eh? What is it, Ukitake?"

"We went to the human realm this morning. Genryuusai-sensei sent me with Minako-san so she could pick up some of her…personal things. While we were there," he looked around, covertly, "Minako-san was on the phone with someone."

"I wouldn't worry about it."

"I'm not, although I did make sure she didn't call anyone else. It's just—well, who she was talking to."

"And? Does little Minako-chan have a lover?" Kyouraku said, his voice playful. He knew that any such conversation would have embarrassed Ukitake unbelievably. His former fuku-taichou was not a discreet woman—she wouldn't have had any problem letting him overhear.

The pale man blushed.

"No, no, nothing like that," he said, his words rushed.

"But she _was_ talking to someone you knew well about 100 years ago."

Kyouraku didn't even pretend to misunderstand him. He knew exactly who would be hiding in the real world and in touch with a defected shinigami that he would know and care to hear about.

"Lisa-chan! I hope she's doing well," he said, his playful tone not dented one bit by the information.

"You are not surprised?"

"No, no. My ladies are always well-trained." He tipped his hat up with one finger, his eyes locking onto Ukitake's. "Usually from having to deal with me."

The amusement in his voice was clear.

"Ah," Ukitake replied, and continued down the veranda.

They soon arrived at the courtyard in front of the First Division, where only Nanao and Minako were still waiting for their partners to arrive.

"Yare, Nanao-chan. Let's see if we can't find something to keep us entertained this afternoon," Kyouraku said, and she stepped up next to him. They began the long trek back to the Eighth after he sent a lazy wave and a smile in Minako's direction.

Minako watched them walk off, her taichou leaning toward the petite woman next to him and Nanao obviously already on his case for something. They were too cute!

"Minako-san, we have a few hours before you are due home. Genryuusai-sensei usually stays here until about seven. Is there anything—" he stopped, unsure of how to proceed.

"You don't have anything you need to get done today?" she asked.

"No. My seated officers are taking care of the division today."

_Do you think we could pull it off, even with him shadowing us?_

_I'm not sure, my dear. Maybe._

Ukitake watched calmly as she stared off into space. He wasn't sure if she was trying to think of something to—oh. The zanpakutou. They were communicating most likely.

He would admit it was one of the more interesting things about this entire situation. They all communicated with their zanpakutou; it was nothing to occasionally see Mastumoto-san running around the Tenth trying to find her own or yelling at it. But few ever zoned out the way she did. Most of the time, it was spoken aloud or like a buzzing in the back of your brain, not enough to take away conscious thought.

_I think the more important question is, will he help us at all?_

_I'm sure we could offer him something in exchange. A chance to poke at you?_

These two, though, were connected very differently from normal shinigami.

_I don't think so_, he growled.

_It would work, you know. He would drop dead at the chance._

_How about something else, hmm? Some information on that new system of blondie's?_

They both grinned, thinking it was the perfect payback. She knew that Urahara had to have given them some clues, helpful or not.

"Actually, could we visit the Twelfth? I have someone I need to see there."

Ukitake wasn't sure he liked the look on her face.

* * *

He knew he didn't like the one she gave off when they were finally standing in front of Kurotsuchi.

This was not a man he respected, and his esteem for Minako-san was steadily diminishing—did she really hang around Kurotsuchi when she was a shinigami?

"Yamamoto Minako. A face I have not seen in a very long time!" the excitable scientist exclaimed.

"Mayuri. You look…as creepy as ever, actually," she confessed, in awe of the crazy outfit.

He preened.

"I'm glad you think so."

But his demeanor shifted, and he looked at her narrowly, suspiciously.

"What are you doing roaming about? I had heard you were here, but with your oji-san's temper, I was sure you would be…locked in a cell."

_I hate this guy._

_Shut it, shishi. He's always been nice to me, which is saying something, considering who we're talking about._

"I've been given a day of freedom, I think. Making the rounds, seeing all the old faces. Thought I would stop by, see what you were up to. Maybe take a peek at what you were working on."

His face drooped, then set in a fake-furious position.

"You won't be taking my secrets back to your pet genius, Minako."

"I wouldn't dream of it," she laughed.

She fluttered her hand in the air in front of her, her face taking on a coquettish look.

"But," she said, her voice taking the tone of someone with many secrets, "I could always give you a heads up on how he's hacking your system."

Ukitake, feeling forgotten by now, meandered over to the small table and chairs set at the bottom of the flight of stairs leading to Kurotsuchi's strange computer/organ machine.

He watched as the two climbed the stairs, talking loudly and gesturing at each other, and he sweatdropped. What a pair.

He was sure sensei would not have allowed her to be friendly with Kurotsuchi, but she seemed to be, so much so that they had both dropped the honorifics. _It's none of your business_, he told himself. Besides, she might know a side of him that others rarely saw, as he did Kyouraku. No one, upon first meeting them, would think they were best friends, but it worked.

Perhaps this was the same thing, although he doubted it.

His thoughts were cut off by the blaring of loud music.

"I knew you could!" he heard her say loudly.

'_Insolent boy, this slave of fashion, basking in your glory…'_

"See?"

"And this is on your own system?"

"Yes! It's from an American play. You see, this is how he's been doing it. We just did it backwards."

"Excellent…"

He watched as Kurotsuchi rubbed his hand together, and then they leaned in together once again, discussing something.

He wasn't interested in her teaching Kurotsuchi to hack Urahara's system. Although, he did have an objection to it. _Hadn't she said Urahara was a friend, that he had helped her?_

Oh, well. He would wait and say something when they were alone.

He shut his ears off, leaning back and drifting into his own mind.

"See," she said quietly, "this will work. Although, he'll have patched it up and found another way in after he finds out you've been there."

"No matter," Mayuri said, delighted. "It'll give me some time in his system."

"Well, I've given you something…"

"Now for the trade, yes?" he said, his exasperation clear.

She pulled a small black phone from her pocket, modeled in a fashion he had probably never seen. "It's touch screen," she said, knowing he would ask. "The latest thing in the human world. They're really mini computers; they do everything."

"Interesting…"

"Well, I can get you one, if you want. Or you can have one of your own pick one up in the human world. But I need you to make it able to communicate like the shinigami phones. I know they can call here and vice versa when in the human realm. I need this one to be able to do the same."

"You want to communicate with someone in the human realm, yes?" he said, interested.

"Pretty much. Can you do it?" She sent a covert look behind them at Ukitake, "and quickly? I don't know how long he'll just sit there."

"Of course I can," he murmured, already pulling up something on his computer.

"And don't put in a backdoor. I don't need anyone listening, not even from your division."

He sent her a look, one she countered. Finally he sighed, and nodded.

"The only problem might be the physical technology of the phone. I'm not sure if it will hold my software."

"Urahara has one. And his computer is human, too, and can hold your software. And his."

The competition factor was enough to get it done.

He had her phone up and connected through some sort of calling software of his own before she could blink, and he was "typing" furiously, downloading the software.

"You realize," he said out of the side of his mouth, not even looking at her, "that I will now be rifling through your own system."

"Go ahead," she said, waving her hand. "There's nothing important on it. Some good music and movies, though, if you want."

He smiled.

_Fucking freak._

_Shishi…_

He typed in what looked like a number, and then her eyes adjusted to the software and she realized it was her own cell number. Her phone vibrated on the top of his machine, and she grinned.

"Now…"

A random number popped up, one most likely from the human realm, and her phone screen showed it was dialing. And then connected. She could hear a woman's voice coming through the phone, announcing herself as the clerk at some office, and the grin became a full-blown, thousand kilowatt smile.

She threw her arms around his shoulders, squeezing him briefly. He hated it, so it was one of her favorite methods of teasing the creepy scientist.

"You're the best, Mayuri."

"Of course I am!" he exclaimed.

"Brilliant. Thank you so much," she breathed, picking the phone up and hiding it in her pocket once again after disconnecting the call.

"Anytime, Minako."

She looked back at the taichou below them, and moved down the stairs.

"Gotta go, Mayuri!" she said loudly, throwing a wave behind her.

"Where—"

"Any mall in the human world!"

Ukitake stood as she reached him, and they turned to leave together but she stopped after another song blared from his machine.

'_Itsumo sasaete kureru hito-tachi ni, higoro no omoi wo kometa rhapsody…'_

She turned back toward him.

"You could at least wait until I'm gone before you ransack my computer files!"

He chuckled evilly, cackling in a way only mad scientists could, and she just shook her head, continuing on.

Ukitake-taichou was quiet the entire time, something that was unusual considering how much he had been talking all day. Every trip, every destination had warranted some comment or conversation. When they finally exited the large courtyard in front of the Twelfth Division, she finally realized what was most likely on his mind.

She knew what most people thought of Mayuri, and to be honest, she had the same thoughts herself sometimes. But he had always been kind to her, even when others had been too afraid to befriend her—her uncle's influence the main problem—and he had never feared the connection.

Plus, he hadn't been nearly so creepy in the academy. Sure, his hair was a weird color, but he was just a normal person then, if a little twisted.

But their friendship had made many uncomfortable, her uncle one of the many. Most likely, he was feeling the same.

"He used to not be so…_that_," she said self-consciously.

Ukitake-taichou looked shocked at the fact that she had chosen to comment on the situation, but recovered quickly.

He sent her a smile.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. In the academy, well, he was just like the rest of us. And a good guy, underneath it all. Now, well, who knows? But he's always been a friend, even though he got creepier with age."

"You have a very interesting group of friends, then," he said. "And the fact that you would betray Urahara-san to him…"

He frowned.

"Not really. Urahara and Kurotsuchi compete, and they regularly let each other get caught. I just sped it up this time."

"As for my friends…Nanao, Isane…Mayuri, Juro…then those in the human world. Just a few of them are crazy, really. Most of them are normal."

She grinned at him, and he laughed.

"Normal?"

She blushed.

_Stop flirting, onna. You make me sick._

_Shut it…_

She wasn't going to explain that the only people she felt comfortable around, other than the girls, tended to be mad scientists and ex-shinigami that usually found themselves forced out because of their uniqueness.

* * *

A/N: The songs were, in this order, "Angel of Music" from Phantom of the Opera and "Thank You" from Home Made Kazoku. (I had to throw in a Bleach theme.)


	11. Chapter 10

A/N: Back to some actual development in the plot. The last chapter was needed, though, and why will become clear soon enough. As I always say, all the important information is located in the notes of the first two parts.

And, um, if any of you are big on games, FFXIII. I'm totally advertising it as I'm enjoying the hell out of it. Some definite differences in the format, but the story and graphics are enough to blow you away.

R & R if you enjoyed the update; it helps me write faster which means I update faster. It's electronic encouragement, really.

Enjoy!

* * *

"The Noble Sort"

* * *

It was late, but she swore she heard someone come in downstairs.

They had dinner hours ago, so she knew her uncle was already in the house. Most likely, someone was visiting. And if a taichou was here this late, something had happened or he had them reporting to him _very_ privately.

She slid out of bed as quietly as possible and headed to the door. Sliding it open just a hair, she saw that there was a light on down the hall, in Gen-oji-san's study.

He had kept his office in this wing of the house for some reason, although he would never explain it. Most likely it was for his personal convenience and he didn't want to say. But if they were meeting in his study, it was definitely private, and one of his closer taichou.

There were only three of them, one of which had been over here earlier in the evening and left sloshed and dizzy. That left only two people who could be in his office with him, and she doubted it was Unohana-taichou.

She tiptoed silently down the hall, making sure to stay against the thicker second wall so that the light splaying through the rice paper front walls of the study wouldn't catch her shadow.

This was not her first eavesdropping trip to her uncle's study, after all. By now, she knew how to do it without getting caught.

She could hear him, faintly, and knew getting any closer was risky but necessary if she wanted to hear him.

She crept as close as she dared, crouching against the wall, and thankfully, she could faintly hear voices.

"…was on the phone with someone, supposedly telling them to get her cats."

Ukitake-taichou. Of course.

Most likely one of her uncle's most trusted was put with her so he could report back her every word and movement.

_Go figure. I would be attracted to the spy._

She wouldn't deny it, though. Shishi had been on her about it since he had caught the feeling, so it was useless. He hadn't called him any names, though, so he wasn't too opposed to the guy. He had just teased her most of the night, enjoying her embarrassment.

Like it would ever happen.

"…I assumed she talked to them. Did she say anything about Hirako Shinji…"

"…no, nothing, Genryuusai-sensei. Not around anyone she didn't trust."

Well, duh. She wasn't just going to blab her every secret all of a sudden. Or other people's secrets, for that matter.

It was silent for a moment, most likely as the two sipped at tea. Her uncle always had tea around.

"She did visit Kurotsuchi-taichou."

She heard a cup hit a saucer jarringly.

"She would," she barely heard her uncle mutter; her grin was impossible to contain. She loved the fact that he hated the weird scientist; it was her own little way of getting under his skin.

"I take it you don't approve of…"

"Of course not."

The conversation continued, running through just about everything they had said and done while in the twelfth, and she let the encounter play in her mind quickly. There was nothing that hinted at what she had actually been doing.

"…anything between she and Urahara is not my business."

Ooh, was he angry? She definitely heard some anger and resentment in his voice.

He should know better; it was obvious to everyone that he and Yoruichi were lovers. He didn't have to worry about her shacking up with one of the men he couldn't stand. Well, at least not that one. There were none right now, but you never knew.

"…guarantee that wasn't her only reason, Juushirou…"

Of course he would know that, he knew her better than anyone. But he still didn't know _what_ she was there for, and her phone had been hidden behind her bathroom's toilet tank as soon as she got in the house. Everything else had been hidden underneath the tatami mat, right by the top of her western-style bed. They would have to move the sucker to get to it, and any searchers would most likely just look under it and in between the mattresses.

"…find her something to do until then…"

_Until when_, she thought.

"…library, or perhaps the academy…"

_Yeah, when?_

"…have to make sure she is there, do you understand? Everyone will be needed."

_Until the battle_, she thought, covering her mouth with her hand before her body even had a chance to expel the large breath she felt fighting its way out in surprise.

They were going to keep her stashed here until the battle. Not surprising, really, but she was hoping that a promise to show up and a locator would work on her uncle so she could go back and prepare with her friends.

"…after…"

_Yes, yes! Speak up, damn you!_

"…assuming we live…" she heard her uncle say, wryly.

_Of course. Say it!_

"…not sure…where would I put her here…"

"…something could be…"

_Come back?_ Her heart jumped, first in fear and then in a tentative bit of elation at the thought of being able to be around her friends here freely. The rush of jumbled emotion she felt at the idea of being allowed back would have to be analyzed later, though.

"…other taichou…her execution I…"

_Oh. Shit._

"…not necessarily. It would not be the first pardon…"

_Yeah yeah yeah, remind him of that. Keep him on that track._

"…can be figured out later, sensei. How do we keep her here until…"

Her heart jumped again, her entire body feeling as if it was ready to jump out of a window or hug someone depending on the next words she heard.

"…don't care if I have to put her in a cell…"

Her stomach dropped.

"…Sensei, surely it won't be…"

"…don't let her leave…any circumstance…"

Her heart joined her stomach.

"…no contact with the human realm. None…reinforcements to come get her…"

She finally stood, keeping her hand over her mouth, ready to retreat back to her room.

"…essentially a prisoner…remember that…"

She stifled the sound that was fighting its way up her throat and quickly fled to her bedroom, still making sure to her steps were silent.

She closed the door softly and ran to her bed, jumping on and curling up against the headboard.

She quickly reached over to the right, grabbing Hidaruma and dragging him to her. She pulled her knees up to her chest and sat him in front of her, a solid line of black sheath and silver hilt on the thick and fluffy baby blue duvet. As if he could become a ward against the men just down the hall.

_I'm sorry, my dear._

She sniffed.

_I should have seen it coming, really. I've been reminding everyone else of it, just not myself._

The sniffling was quickly turning into tears.

_I think I was deluding myself, letting myself feel the happiness I once felt here…_

_Would it be alright if…I came out?_

She nodded, knowing he always somehow saw it.

The sword and sheath in front of her fully disappeared in one second, and slowly, a large black dog materialized in front of her. She could feel the springs of the mattress give as his substantial weight—he weighed almost three times what she did—fell on the bed's supports.

He was shaggy and dark, his yellow eyes taking on a bright tint of red as the light from her lamp caught them. He scooted on his belly toward her and she unfolded, letting him come to rest across her legs with his head up on her stomach.

Both of her hands came up to rub his head, and he let out a soft growl.

_We will be okay, Minako. I promise it._

_I know, shishi._

He cocked an ear and an eye up at her.

_Do I look like a shishi to you right now?_

_Of course not._

She smiled through her tears, grabbing his head with both hands and shaking it. His tongue lolled out as she suppressed a laugh at the very doggy expression on her giant hellhound.

_You look like you. Hidaruma. My brave flaming zanpakutou, complete with a bad temper and a hatred of any man I try to date._

She felt his sigh, an unusual huff of large air through his snout.

_And you. A crazy shinigami with a penchant for people that can't control their own inner selves. _She felt him give her a sly smile in her mind. _And pale men that are obviously spying on you._

_I doubt you have anything to worry about there, shishi. _

_You never know. He could be taken in by your wiles. I've seen worthier opponents fall to you._

_He won't. He has a very large rulebook, all labeled under that mysterious thing 'morality.'_

_Hm. Morals. They are not needed._

She looked down at him, considering.

_You have gained emotion from this. But you have not gained even my small bit of morality?_

_I didn't say that,_ he protested. _I just ignore it._

_Of course you do. You wouldn't be a baka shishi otherwise._

He nipped up at her hand, playfully grabbing her wrist and twisting. She smacked him with the other one, and he lay back down.

_Sleep, Minako. No one will bother you with me out._

He gave her a feral grin, his sharp teeth gleaming in the lamplight.

_They wouldn't dare._

_I know. I'm safe._

She didn't hear him think 'yes, you are,' and she didn't see the way his eyes lit up in the semidarkness of the room as he took over watch of his charge.

* * *

_Everything was fire._

_The pain that had taken over her body had fled to the back of her mind. It was just a dull buzz, not the all-consuming power over her nervous system it had been minutes before. Now, everything was fire. It was hot, but it didn't hurt. _

_She was fire._

_All around her there were flames. She could feel Hidaruma shouting in joy in her mind, knew he was with her, and the elation was unbelievable._

_She crouched, and then sprang into action. They were high above the scientist on the ground—shouting at them, now—and she had never imagined it would feel like this. _

_She came back down soon enough, delighting in returning to a somewhat human form—basically herself, but not. There were still flames. It was amazing. She was made of flame._

"_Minako-san—I—"_

_She grinned at him, twirling about, and aimed at a rock a hundred yards away. Her sword literally sprang out of her hand and materialized, although it, too, was flame. _

"_Himon: Kai!"_

_The second seal released, even in this form, and the rock was engulfed in flames. _

_It was amazing. _

_He let them continue, trying different attacks every so often, getting used to the new form. Shinji had been right, she guessed. All it took was training and hard work. _

_Finally, though, it was time to go back. She heard him say it, but didn't really understand how. Last time it had been so easy, although painful as hell. _

_She couldn't…remember…_

_She thought of what she looked like, but she couldn't remember her body. Had she ever existed like that? What did a body feel like? What was skin?_

_Hidaruma was panicking now, she could tell. He couldn't remember fur, or steel. _

_The words had meaning, but not enough. _

_What was human? Was she human now? Could she be human?_

_Would she just die like this? She could feel the drain on her reiatsu levels, and they both began to panic._

_Going back felt impossible._

She sprang awake to feel someone holding her down by her shoulders, and she screamed. She could hear Hidaruma nearby, whimpering, but he wasn't moving to help her.

There was someone over her. A dark form.

She tried to lash out, panicking, screaming at Hidaruma to help her but he stayed out of her vision, not even moving to rescue her.

She felt her heart start to beat way too fast, even faster than it had been in the terror left from her dream, but finally, finally, one of the arms moved off of her left shoulder and she swung violently, catching the man—she could tell, they always smelled differently—right in the stomach.

He didn't budge, although she heard his exclamation of pain, and then the light was on.

It was her uncle.

She scooted backward, his hand coming up off of her right shoulder now as well, and she backed herself up against the headboard. Her back was stiff and straight, her eyes wide and locked on his.

In her peripheral vision, she saw Hidaruma jump onto the bed, coming to lay against her legs.

"Minako?"

She nodded, unsure she could even speak right then.

She saw his eyes close, and he sank heavily, sitting on the side of the bed. He was already in his sleeping yukata, so it must have been late.

He looked so tired, she realized, more tired than she probably did.

"I'm alright. It just takes me a minute to calm down."

She closed her eyes, concentrating on her breathing like she always did. It was the only way to truly calm down and get focused again. She felt his hand come to rest on her calf, though, and knew that she wasn't alone in trying to fight off the terror the dream had wrought.

* * *

She wasn't doing it. Nope.

No way was she going down there this morning. She was gonna stay upstairs, and then once her uncle left she would just hang around the house all day.

There were many reasons behind this, including the conversation she had overheard the night before and her monumental freak out. She wasn't in the mood to see her uncle. She really wasn't in the mood to see the _other_ one either, although for different reasons.

_Is it merely physical attraction?_

She saw him lift his head and look at her through the bathroom mirror's reflection.

_Maybe. I dunno._

_Could it be more? Do you even know him well enough?_

She stopped brushing her hair, the question running through her mind.

_I think so. He doesn't seem to have changed, and I knew him well then. Am I attracted to his personality? I don't know. Physically, he's my type, but mentally—who knows?_

_Then just mate with him and get it over with._

She gasped, turned around, and threw the hairbrush at him.

"Ba-Ka Shi-Shi!"

_Hn. As if that hurt._

She went back to fixing her hair, which she was leaving down again. It was an easy way to distinguish her present self from her past, and she was keeping it visible for the foreseeable future.

_If I had wanted it to hurt, it would have. I promise._

_You could try, but you would f—_

There was a knock at the door, and then after a short moment it slid open.

"You're really lucky I wasn't changing—" she was cut off by a loud shout.

"What is _that?_" she heard him exclaim.

"Get off the bed, Hidaruma," she heard her uncle order gruffly.

"That is—that is—" Ukitakte-taichou stuttered.

"Hidaruma," her uncle muttered.

"Is he dangerous in this form, Genryuusai-sensei?"

_Would you like to find out? _She heard him say in her mind, his dark amusement filtering through her brain. _I am sure I could snap you in half if you stand still._

"Shishi, no!"

The very large dog jumped off of the bed about the same time she came through the doorway separating her bedroom from the bathroom, and he sat in front of the two males, watchful. She was sure it had to be quite the sight for Ukitake-taichou; dogs that were the size of a small bear usually were.

"I must admit, Minako-san, when I heard he was a hellhound, I was expecting something…different," Ukitake-taichou said, seemingly lost at the fact that a fiery dog with horns was not standing in front of him. The dog was big, yes, but he looked like a regular dog other than his impressive size.

_This is not a fairy tale, moron._

_Please, shishi._

He complied, although he did blow a bit of black smoke out of his nostrils.

_It wouldn't do to let him think I am harmless, my dear._

She shot the dog a look as stepped up beside him.

_No one would, I assure you. _

"Oji-san, Ukitake-taichou…what are you doing up here?"

"Minako-san, I am your escort again today. I was hoping we could visit the Eighth Division before heading to my office. I have some work to get done, and then perhaps—"

She cut him off.

"Actually, I think I'm going to stay home today," she said, turning on her heel and heading toward the small writing desk near the window. "I might head over to the old house, but that would be all."

"Stay home?" her uncle said. "You do not wish to visit your old division."

"Not particularly."

Her uncle didn't change his posture or expression, although she could tell he was at a loss. She could actually see some of the confusion Ukitake-taichou felt, though, and triumph flooded her.

Hidaruma barked, suddenly, and the pale man jumped.

"Stupid animal," her uncle huffed, although she could hear the amusement in his voice. He, after all, had a much more stubborn zanpakutou to deal with. He understood.

"Are you afraid of him, Ukitake-taichou?" she said without looking up from the drawer she was digging in. "I assure you, he's not going to attack."

"I—no, Minako-san. He's just very surprising."

She watched her uncle shoot him a look out of her periphery before he turned and headed out of the door.

"I must go. I will see you this afternoon, Minako."

She nodded, making a noise of agreement, and then it was just her and the taichou.

Hidaruma thumped his large tail on the floor, sending out a shockwave of vibration. Unfortunately, this time the pale taichou didn't even flinch. She could feel his disappointment at his failed intimidation tactic.

"Can he fight in this form?" he asked, curious.

She turned slightly in the chair she was now in, nodding.

_Can I show him, Minako? It would be…fun._

"He," she chuckled, "he actually wants to know if you would like to spar with him. Well," she said, consideration in her voice, "he didn't say _spar_."

The taichou pointed at finger at his chest in disbelief.

"Me?"

"Yes, you." Her amusement was clear.

_Come on, pale one, let me bite you. _

"I wouldn't recommend it, Ukitake-taichou. He is very…playful this morning. He would probably bite you."

_Don't ruin my fun, onna!_

She saw his brows knit together, and she held in a giggle. If she remembered correctly—

"You should not bite, Hidaruma," he scolded, his finger now pointing at the dog.

_Did he just—surely not, Minako!_

_I think he did,_ she said dryly.

Hidaruma stood, slowly making his way over to the taichou, obviously stalking his prey.

"Ah, well…perhaps…I'll see you at lunch, Minako-san. Then, maybe, you will go to see Kyouraku and the others with me."

She nodded absentmindedly and he left in a hurry, shutting the door behind him.

She chuckled, turning to the book she had dug out of the desk drawer, and Hidaruma, now sure that her uncle had gone, climbed back on the bed and settled down for a nap.

_Good doggie._

* * *

Three hours later they had wandered over to the old house, her mother's home. Hidaruma had stayed in his dog form and she didn't have the heart to make him change back when they were just around the house. A day out might get him to settle down a bit.

She had strolled aimlessly through the rooms, noting the dust and the sheets over the furniture. It had obviously not been touched or lived in since her mother's death.

Once again guilt crept into her heart; she would never live here, either. Most likely the house would sit and rot. It had too many bad memories for her and too few good ones.

No one had followed her over there, oddly enough, although she had felt the extra reiatsu surrounding the grounds not even twenty minutes after her uncle left that morning. He had, most likely, put his own people in place around the house so she couldn't leave. They would stay close but not bother her. And none would be close enough for what she came here to do to matter, thankfully.

She could have tried it from her bedroom, but the chance that Hikaru would overhear and potentially inform her uncle made her wary.

She pulled the phone out and turned it on—she had kept it off when not in use to conserve the battery. The voicemail icon popped up, which meant she was receiving calls while here.

_Thank you Mayuri!_ she screamed in her head.

She quickly checked her mail, noting that all the calls but one were from Lisa, yet again checking to see if she had come back from Seireitei. One, though, was from Urahara, who seemed a little miffed about the fact that he had caught Mayuri using the backdoor to get into his system last night.

He said that he hoped having her phone active was worth it, and that Yoruichi was beginning to wonder where she was and why he had her cats, which he also did not appreciate.

There was also a picture, sent from Yoruichi, of Kiri wearing something odd. She probably didn't want to know, but if he was using them in any sort of experiment, she would kill him. Yoruichi said to enjoy her trip—what had he told her—and that she would care of the babies until she got back.

She didn't have time to call him now either way; this was something she wanted done as quickly as possible so there was very little chance of her getting caught.

She quickly pulled up her phone book and tapped Lisa's number with her finger, and the phone began dialing.

"_Minako."_

"Obviously," she said as she moved toward the large window in her mother's bedroom. It looked out over the pond, and it had been her mother's favorite spot.

"_What is it?"_

She could hear the dread in her voice.

"I'm a prisoner." She sighed. "They're going to keep me here until the battle with Aizen, and then—well, they don't seem to sure we'll live through it, much less what they'll do with me afterward. He wants my bankai, most likely—the barrier would be useful for _something_ in his plans, I'm sure."

"_I knew it. Somehow, I just knew it."_ She heard Lisa slam something down, most likely one of her manga. _"So what's the plan?"_

"I don't know yet. But I was able to get a friend to wire my phone. I can use it here, so we can keep in contact. You'll have to leave me messages; I turn it off when I'm not using it to conserve the battery."

"_Got it."_

"Otherwise, I'll just call you when the coast is clear. I might have to stage a breakout."

"_If that's what it takes—"_

"He mentioned execution, Lisa. He didn't—didn't sound like he would, but…if everything should come out at some point it's almost assured…"

"_Fuck. Hold on—Shinji! No, right now. Come here."_

She could hear them arguing over the phone, and chewed on one of her nails. She didn't know what time Ukitake-taichou would be back, just around lunch, and it was getting close…

"_I thought they told Urahara you weren't, ya know, deep in it, Minako."_

"Well, apparently they didn't know everything, Shinji. And you know as well as I do that it was always a possibility."

"_Shit. Here's what you're gonna do, ya got it? Listen to me closely, Minako. The next time you get any hint he won't be watchin' you at night, or you can get someone to take you into Rukongai for somethin', you call us first."_

"A breakout. I can do that on my own."

"_No. You'll just screw it up, dumbass. Ya call me, I'll get Urahara to get a gate open. I owe you, anyway."_

"Ok. Shinji—thanks."

She didn't wait to hear a reply, just hit the disconnect button and powered the phone down.

Kami, she didn't want to drag them into this, but she had almost no choice. She couldn't do this alone, she knew it. And she had helped them out before, just like they were helping her now.

_You helped them break out of something and I wasn't involved?_ she heard him ask, sounding hurt.

_No._ She grinned. _But I bailed Shinji and Love out of jail one night, and I seem to remember taking a punch meant for Lisa at a bar a few years ago. Half of them might think I'm too shinigami for their tastes, but they owe me one._

She heard footsteps in the hallway as soon as she turned to leave her mother's room.

* * *

A/N: I haven't noticed any new Japanese words yet, so no Japanese lesson this update. Unless you just want one: "ue, naka, shita!" Ue is above or on, naka is inside or in, and shita is below or under. "Ue ni, naka ni, and shita ni" are now translatable for you guys!


	12. Chapter 11

A/N: As always, the important stuff is in the notes of the first two parts. This is an extra upload, mainly because I didn't want one chapter to just be a note. So everyone gets two extra chapters this weekend so I can say this and keep my double-chapter posting on schedule.

Now. Sometime yesterday I received two reviews that I want to address and couldn't through im because they weren't logged in when they reviewed. I have no problem with criticism, as Snowkid can probably attest to. Snowkid approached me in a review about something and I've spoken to her about it in IM. I see her point and she sees mine; we've been carrying on a conversation about Nanao for the past few days. But I have to bring up some issues that were mentioned in two reviews, which have now been removed.

First, I claim in my summary that there is an OC. If you don't like, don't read. Simple as that.

As for the Yamamoto line being part of the four houses—wrong! The only two noble houses known are the Kuchiki and the Shihoin. It is also known that the Ukitake, Kyouraku, Umaeda, and Shiba families are/were noble. As was one fallen family. Nowhere in Bleach or in the databooks are we told Yamamoto is one of the four noble houses, so I didn't make him part of them.

I researched for two months before letting this story be posted, making sure I had everything correct or as close to it as possible. I even had a friend that knows Bleach look it over. I know these characters' histories, favorite foods, hobbies, even what they are known for in Seireitei (publications, mainly). I have scoured the databooks, the BleachWiki, the anime, and the manga to make sure I was correct in speech patterns and what they called each other.

Yes. I'm upset. Very few of my readers have ever seen me this way, but I've truly never been in this situation. I would have handled it privately but I couldn't. I'm not sure how two lines of words have gotten to me like this, but they have.

I'll end this author's note, though, with a happy tone. I'll just thank those of you who have enjoyed this story.

I'll just say this: if you don't like, hit the little "x" at the top of your screen and look at something else, like I do if I find a story I don't like.

And for those who do like it, R & R please. I know sometimes we're too busy, but even a short "I enjoyed it" helps make those of us who have to deal with flames, criticism, and sometimes actual verbal attacks feel better.

So R & R if you liked it!

Enjoy!

(And, um, I kind of need a beta.)

* * *

"The Noble Sort"

* * *

"_Execution?"_ Urahara exclaimed, his persona slipping rapidly.

"That's what she said. Not that they were planning it, but that it had been discussed."

Lisa, her hands on her hips, turned to Shinji.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

He scuffed at the concrete floor beneath them with his very nice loafer, wearing a small spot on the side of his left shoe.

"Well, shit. They didn't say anything about choppin' off her head earlier. And I wasn't the only one for it, remember? Dumbass."

"I don't remember voting to turn her in," Lisa said, eyes crackling with fire behind her glasses.

His eyebrows knitted together, and he grimaced.

"I didn't think they would take it this far. He's her _uncle_."

"Ah," Urahara said, his fan tapping against his hat, "His sense of justice is overdeveloped. Even his niece is not above the law in his eyes. Any threat to Seireitei, hai?"

"Taichou wouldn't let it happen," Lisa said, her confidence in Kyouraku evident in her voice.

"That's a lot of faith restin' on a shinigami—not a good idea," Shinji said, the disparaging tone clear. And he was making a face at her, something that would only fan her ire even more.

"Who knows? According to Yoruichi-san and Kurosaki-kun, both he and Ukitake-taichou interfered with Rukia-san's execution. Their reasons are their own."

"She wanted to go back, y'know. We all know it. She's still hung up on it. I _thought _I was doin' her a favor," the blonde Visored said petulantly.

"Well, don't do me any favors, Shinji," Lisa bit out.

Urahara tapped Benihime on the floor rhythmically, although the two Visoreds doubted he knew he was doing it.

"Maa, maa...how much time will I have to get the gate ready?"

"Few minutes…maybe half an hour," Shinji said, his mind already drifting from the conversation.

Urahara sweatdropped.

Still he nodded, turning to leave the warehouse.

He made it almost to the open doors and then stopped suddenly, turning. His face was hidden by the shadow of his hat and his ever-present fan, but they could see the gleam in his eyes.

"Yoruichi-san does not know about this."

Shinji snorted, and then nodded.

"I won't tell your _girlfriend_, don't worry."

Urahara turned and continued out of the building; soon he was out of sight.

"Although I wonder what you told her, considerin' she hasn't seen her friend in a few days," Shinji said darkly.

Suddenly a look of frustration came across his face.

"Is it too much to ask that he just fuckin' tell you shit?"

_Fucking shinigami._

_They're nothin' but trouble._

* * *

"You really did not have to make him do that, Minako-san," Ukitake-taichou said, distressed.

"It's alright. He'd been out long enough."

He had come to retrieve her—or spy on her—and they had immediately wandered out into Seireitei, but she had made Hidaruma go back into sword form first. He had pouted but she wasn't having it, not today.

There were too many other considerations right now.

They were supposedly heading to a small restaurant that he and her former taichou favored and then over to her old division, not something she was looking forward to.

The idea of seeing all her old teammates, the men and women she once laughed with, fought with, lived with...it was just too much. So far her reception had been much better than she ever believed possible, but her company had been limited to taichou and fukutaichou. The upper levels of the divisions tended to have more information and knew what was going on, whereas their men usually did not. In her position, the normal shinigami soldiers would be much more apt to, well, despise her than those in power. But even the reaction of her former division wasn't the chief worry in her mind.

What distressed her most was the fact that, even after last night's late night rendezvous with her uncle, he was still treating her as if she was just a friend or another shinigami. If she was a prisoner, she wished they would just go ahead and make it plain. This playacting was driving her crazy now.

They arrived at the restaurant fairly quickly and were seated in one of the many small, private rooms in the back. She sank to the floor and let him order; this place hadn't been here eighty years ago. Soon, though, the waitress doubling as host had left them alone and the tension began to fill the silence.

She coughed lightly, searching her mind for a topic, but he actually saved them from entering an uncomfortable silence.

"He does not seem to be dangerous…" he said, haltingly.

"He isn't. But wandering around—people wouldn't like it."

He nodded, understanding.

"What of your own zanpakutou, Ukitake-taichou?"

His face lit up, his smile widening and his eyes sparkling.

"Sōgyo no Kotowari! They are twin brothers, and very obstinate children," he said, and while she could tell they probably annoyed him, he was very proud of them. It was almost enough to send her scrambling back, trying to physically react to the idea that her own zanpakutou was so much more violent and unacceptable. Instead, she set her shoulders and reacted in the time-honored tradition of upset females everywhere: with barbed words.

"Much better than a hellhound, yes?" she said, her sarcasm obvious.

"I did not say that, Minako-san!"

She waved her hand in front of her.

"No, but everyone other than Gen-oji-san thinks it. It's very hard to explain the fire-types to those without fire-types." She took a long, cleansing breath and smiled at him lopsidedly.

It was amusing, offending his sense of politeness, but it was getting old already. She just didn't seem to have it in her like she used to. Besides, it would be best _not_ to antagonize one of the men that could help her out of this predicament.

"Forgive me. Let's talk about something other than my trouble-making zanpakutou."

"Do you enjoy life—in the human world?"

In truth, he was greatly interested in the idea. He would never even consider living somewhere else by choice, but the world had fascinated him since he was young.

"Most of the time. You work, you go home. Occasionally you go out with friends." She propped her head up on her hand, staring at the wall. "Same as here, just more freedom to make your own choices. More movement in society, I guess you could say."

She saw his face drop as another avenue of conversation was struck down. She wasn't doing it purposefully this time, but he really didn't seem to understand that there wasn't much to talk about when it came to her "human life."

"You spoke of friends there; do you have many?"

_Already trying for information on them, huh?_

"Not really. Urahara and Yoruichi, obviously, and a few others. None that are very friendly, or very involved in my life."

Could she even really count Lisa and Shinji? Lisa, sure. They had known each other for almost two centuries, and even everything that had gone on to make the Visoreds hate shinigami wasn't enough to kill that anymore. But still, she was standoffish, and it wasn't like they got together and had girls' beauty nights or anything. They pulled each other out of binds, trained, and called to make sure neither of them had died. Occasionally enjoyed a night out. Otherwise, it was business as usual.

Then Rin and Mori, who she would never bring up, and a few others that were so deeply hidden they had no chance of ever finding them. They weren't friends, really. She didn't see them enough for that.

Did she have a "bosom buddy," as her mother called it? a close friend that was always there? No. She didn't have the time, and she didn't trust anyone that well.

"And you work? What do you do?"

"Before this, I waitressed. Now who knows? I've most likely lost my job because I'm here and not at work and I didn't even call in with an excuse," she said dryly. "I taught, at one point. Teaching was okay, I guess. I was a bartender a few years ago, worked in a department store. Typical human jobs."

_This woman is lonely_, he thought, _but she won't admit it._

He could always tell.

Thankfully their food arrived, and the problem of finding subjects for conversation was solved by food being consumed.

They ate quickly, neither willing to drag out the very awkward lunch, and after settling their bill—she hoped oji-san had given him money to pay for it and she would have to check tonight—they headed towards her old division.

This made her even more anxious.

She had not seen these people since her defection, and many of them would not take kindly to her reappearance, even if she wasn't rejoining their group. And there was still a fear of shinigami lurking underneath it all—not the ones she had grown up with, the ones she knew well, just the ones that she couldn't…identify.

_Where do I fit then?_

She wasn't a shinigami, wasn't a hollow. Wasn't human. She definitely wasn't a Visored. She, Urahara, Tessai, and Yoruichi were in this weird grey area. Hers even weirder because she wasn't part of that strange household, not that she ever wanted to be.

She stopped him with a hand on his arm before they even got close to her old division.

"Do we…have to go there?" she asked, her nervousness evident.

"You're worried about their reaction," he said, his innate shrewdness kicking in.

"I just wanted to stay home today. Lunch was great and all, but…"

She looked down at the stones beneath their feet, sighed, and looked up at him.

"Look," she said, finality ringing in her tone, "An exchange. You don't make me go, and—I know what you're after. Information. But I can't give it to you. Shinji barely tolerates me, and only because I'm helping him lay low and keep up with the craziness going on. We can't afford to be picky right now, not with all of us wanting Aizen dead."

His mouth had dropped open, and he was staring at her.

"Other than that, he did me a favor and helped me train to overcome all the…other stuff. He was the only one strong enough to do so. The only real reason I even keep in contact with the V—I really shouldn't even say that word, you know—is because they sometimes need someone legit in the human world, and I'm that connection."

"Well, and Lisa. We're still friends, as much as anyone _can_ be friends with her."

She turned on her heel, stomping back toward the house.

"Where—Minako-san!"

He caught up quickly, huffing, and continued alongside her, matching her fast pace.

"More, you need more?" she said wryly, looking over at him. "Fine."

"Wait, Minako-san, I—" he was shaking his head and waving his hands, but she ignored him.

"I'm a shinigami to them, which equals enemy—except to Lisa—and I'm a traitor to you people. I'm neither. I'm Hiyori's punching bag occasionally when she gets mad because I represent everything she hates, which boils down to hating shinigami and humans. That's the end of it, I promise."

She gestured at him wildly.

"I've never been popular like you. Never made friends easy. And it's double hard when you live a very long time in the human world and the only people who will live as long as you hate everything you represent and, as many of them know, everything you would like to be. Why else do you think Shinji told you where to find me?"

She stopped, staring him down right outside the tall gate that led to the house. His expression was one of shock, and she felt a momentary surge of fierce, dark satisfaction.

"Yes, you saw Shinji and didn't even know it. I'm sure if I ever see him again he'll spin some line about he and Urahara and the greater good and _blah blah blah_ but it really boils down to the fact that I'm a shinigami and to him, I belong here and not there."

"Although, if I know Shinji and before all this shit with Aizen I knew him really well, back when he was just Shinji and not on some mad course against everyone who had ever pissed him off, he's feeling a little guilty right now. And it's damn well deserved, if you ask me."

With that final thought she jerked herself to the right and stormed through the gate onto the Yamamoto holdings. She was, truthfully, counting on the idea that her little rant would get him to leave her alone, and maybe get her uncle to leave her alone.

It did not work out that way, unfortunately.

He flashed in front of her and she almost ran into him but stopped barely a foot away.

"What _now_?" she asked, exasperated.

"I truly thought you would enjoy visiting with your old friends; I had no ulterior motive. Yes, Genryuusai-sensei has given me an order to get any information possible, but I would have asked you about them at some point." His little speech was rushed, and his tone was urgent.

"Oh, really? When? Two days before Aizen showed up to annihilate Karakura?"

"So you know," he breathed.

"Of course I know!" she screamed. "We all do! You guys are the ones who are falling behind. Without Urahara you'd all be left back in the dark ages, still trying to figure out what the hell was going on!"

She leaned in close, trying to stare him in the eye—which was hard, considering she was about ten inches shorter than he was—and spoke very softly, with a menacing tone.

"Have you figured it out yet? I guarantee my former taichou has. There's no way it was Aizen. The only thing he could gain by fusing with his bankai would be invisibility—it's moot with the power of his zanpakutou. He's pretty much already got it. He had no reason—and rape? I don't think so. Not his style. Someone else is involved in this and you people have no clue who it is."

She tried to whip around him but he reached out and gently grabbed her arm, stopping her.

"Hold on! You seem to think we don't understand what is going on," he said, his voice very serious, finally. It was the first time she'd really heard him be serious since she had come back. "We do. We know what he is doing, his plan, all of it. We know he has someone on the inside. But if he is as strong as we think he is, we know we have to prepare."

_You still know nothing. You're thinking too small._

"Then _prepare! _And leave me out of it!" She jerked her arm out of his hand and he flinched back.

"I don't want any part of it. I'll do my part at the battle, but I'm through after that! What part of this is so hard for all of you to understand? My life ended seventy-six years ago. I've just been meandering along since Urahara helped me, waiting for the day I could repay the favor by helping to take Aizen out! This—this _thing_ you see is not the Minako that left here then. That person is gone. I can try to act like I'm her, but I'm not."

She got five more steps before turning around to put the final nail in the coffin.

"And stop acting like my friend! You didn't care back then when I was just 'Genryuusai-sensei's little niece' or when I was 'Kyouraku's fuku-taichou.' And you don't care now! Give it a _fucking rest _already!"

She left him standing there awestruck in front of her uncle's house.

* * *

It was already ten at night, her uncle was not home yet, and she had half a mind to just go ahead and make the phone call that would get her out of this mess and back home.

But she didn't.

Hidaruma was back in doggy form, pacing her room due to the anxiety he was feeling through their bond, and she was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the large western-style bed, teary.

Why should she call them? Hadn't she just explained, hours ago, that they didn't consider her a friend, probably couldn't care less what happened to her? They were only allies—tentatively—so that they could all survive the situation they were in?

She had come so close to turning her phone on, fluctuating between a call to set up a gate and a text message to Lisa saying to forget it.

What had happened to her?

This situation was making her crazy. This wasn't her, this wasn't who she was now. She wasn't emotional, wasn't crazy, and she didn't yell at people or make old men throw her in ponds. She was trying to force an old shoe on that didn't fit, just because she had loved it. It was so long ago. It hovered in her mind like a favorite past-time, like an idyllic memory that she would want to recreate no matter what. She was still a person, after all, with feelings and emotions and dreams. Sometimes.

And now the tears were flowing again.

_Fucking wonderful._

At this point, she just might settle for getting through the battle and being done with it all. The release sounded like a good deal to her.

_Calm down, Minako._

_Fuck you, too._

He growled at her, loudly.

_You heard me, Hidaruma._

_Do not take your anger out on me, onna. I am not—_

_Yes, you are! You're part of it, too._

The black dog stopped pacing, staring at her and snarling.

_What, pissed off now? You gonna turn on me too?_

_They weren't trustworthy in the first place. I am the ONLY one who has stuck by you, and you better remember that. Not your family, your friends, your men. ME._

_I am the one who could've never pulled you out of your sheath, remember that. I could've thrown you away._

He growled again, smoke coming from the gap between his snarling lips.

She growled back. It wasn't menacing, nothing like his, but it got the message across. It might have helped if she didn't look like a preschooler trying to imitate a puppy.

_You are going to lose control,_ he snorted mentally, _again, and then we're both screwed when you burn this house down. _

_I'm not either. I would know. I'm just pissed._

_You are not the only one in this situation, and you would do well to remember that. I am stuck here with you. _

_Yes, but here you get to be free. I'm the one who suffers._

_I have stayed in my sheath almost eighty years, other than for training! That is suffering, onna! _

_You weren't supposed to be out anyway, Hidaruma. You didn't lose anything you had gotten used to._

He growled again.

_You are the most infuriating creature I—_

_Don't you even, you goddamn hypocrite! You're a hellhound—there isn't anything more infuriating than that!_

That insult was the final straw; he had been fed her anxiety all day and the emotional chaos finally caused him to snap.

He pounced.

She didn't even have time to try scramble backwards before he was on the bed and knocking her over, towering above her, four limbs caging her in. His front paws rested in the small space between her head and shoulder, literally closing her in at one of her most vital points—her neck. His back feet were resting on either side of her thighs and knees, effectively cutting off her movement.

The big black head lowered, his nose almost touching hers. And his growl was so loud she swore it shook the frame of the house. Her ears would probably be ringing after this.

_You have been in a mood all day. I understand you are upset, and I understand you are scared. But you had better STOP taking it out on me, or I will give you something to cry about. It has been too long since you have faced me on a battlefield, obviously, if you think I will lay down and bare my stomach like that._

_And you expect me to? I could've ordered you back into your sheath but I haven't. I've given you more leeway over the years than I think anyone else would give a zanpakutou ever. Do you care? No. You ask for more._

_I would love to see you try to force me into that form right now, Minako. I would fight you and win. You can't even control your own emotions. _

In the midst of their mental argument, they missed Hikaru sliding the door open to check on the very loud noise she had heard, her gasp, and her quick retreat.

Or, more likely, they just ignored it. This was not the first argument they had had, and bystanders were sometimes in awe of them.

_All you have done since this began was mope and cry, feeling so sorry for yourself you're hardly the person I was born to protect. If this is what you have become, you might be better off dead._

The tears started again.

It was hard, listening to her oldest friend say she would be better off dead.

He growled, and she sobbed even louder.

_Do not twist my words, onna! For all that's holy in the world, use your damn brain and think! You die, I die. But if this is the life you have picked for us, I would rather commit fucking seppuku right now than continue this up and down emotional bullshit._

_Yes, because I haven't had to deal with yours! I seem to remember spending an entire month in bed after I had already spent a month in bed because you were traumatized after that first try at bankai. You act like I'm the only irrational one here, but you're just as bad. 'Oh, but Minako, look what happened to you. Oh, Minako, what have we become?' Boo-hoo._

_That's because I unfortunately happen to take too many of my formative traits from a whiny bitch!_

They were both silent, his chest heaving in anger and hers from sobbing, staring at the pair of eyes in front of them.

_Now who's taking their anger out on whom?_

_I wouldn't be,_ he said mentally, accompanying it with a feral snarl, _if you would just act your age and stop taking yours out on me._

_Well, you—you—_

_Come on then, onna; I'm waiting for your witty fucking rejoinder._

"Hadō no ichi: Shō!"

Both of their eyes had widened at the first syllable, but neither had been able to react before a bright light entered their vision, slamming into Hidaruma and forcing him off of her.

And then he was on the floor near the wall.

"Bakudō no kyuu: Geki!"

"NO!"

But she couldn't even get the word out before he was engulfed in red and completely paralyzed, unable to move. She sat up quickly and swung herself around to face the doorway, expecting her uncle to be standing there.

Instead, she saw the very angry taichou of the Thirteenth Division.

* * *

A/N: So. A little character development.


	13. Chapter 12

A/N: As usual, all the important information is lurking in the notes of the first two parts.

I promise, it's all out of my system now. I have returned to my happy place, although the writing frenzy I've been on this week has stalled out big time. Hopefully it'll kick into gear once I've got my mind in the right place again.

And B, sorry is all it takes. That's good enough. I just hope you realize now that your words do have an effect and they can hurt people. I too can be a major bitch, but I've found that the best advice possible is to walk away for at least an hour and then approach the problem. One of my education professors told me it was the best way to deal with any upsetting situation, although I believe she was referring to students!

And if you have a question, ask. If you go to my profile page there is a link where you can e-mail me. Or get an account here at and PM me. I'm actually a very approachable person and will answer any questions you ask. As for the Japanese, most of the words are translated at the ends of the chapters somewhere, but once again, Pm me and I'll answer any questions you have. I want everyone to enjoy this story as much as I enjoy writing it, and it isn't possible when someone's having problems with it.

And this will be the last said of the matter.

R &R if you like it!

Enjoy!

* * *

"The Noble Sort"

* * *

_Instead, she saw the very angry taichou of the Thirteenth Division._

She sat there but a moment, tears still running down her face from the argument with Hidaruma, then scrambled across the bed and into the floor. Ukitake-taichou was in front of her before she could even reach the pitiful form slumped against her wall, holding her back.

She jerked but his grip never loosened. For a thin, usually ill man, he was stronger than he looked.

"Let m-me go! What did you _do _to him?" she cried.

His eyebrows went sky high.

"Me?" he said, his voice full of disbelief and shock. "He was attacking you!"

"He wasn't! We—we were arguing, and he n-never hurt me! He wouldn't!"

Which should have been a clue to her that it wasn't her uncle; he would've known that Hidaruma would never hurt her, even if it looked bad. He also had a fire-based zanpakutou and knew how volatile the relationship could sometimes be. It wouldn't have been the first time he had seen them in an argument and he would never have blasted off kidō.

She moved again, hoping to break free, but he grabbed her arms even more tightly and dropped his head to meet her eyes, which were frantically trying to find a way to see around him to Hidaruma.

"He was on top of you, growling. That is not an argument!"

He turned his head, catching the big black dog in his peripheral vision.

She concentrated on stopping the tears and gently pulled backward. He let her go, and she sat on the edge of the bed, staring at Hidaruma, whose big eyes were alternating between staring at her pitifully and glaring at the man in front of her.

"I know it l-looked bad, I do. But we were j-just arguing. I-I-I was so mad, and," she sniffed, "and I took it out on him."

She looked up at him. "If he'll g-go back to h-his normal form, will you let m-me explain?"

He nodded, still looking angrier than she had ever seen him.

She looked at Hidaruma, who whined.

Ukitake-taichou ended the technique, and the black dog was immediately replaced with a sword.

She closed her eyes, focusing on stopping the tears and the sobs still working their way through her body.

When she felt composed enough to explain everything—something she seemed to be doing a lot of lately—she wiped her eyes with the sleeve of the jacket she had on. Then, she opened her eyes and looked straight at the man in front of her.

"How did you get here so quickly?" she asked, curious.

"I've been here all day," he said, sounding a little hurt and shocked that she hadn't noticed.

_Oh._

He turned and bent at the waist, picking the sword up off of the floor before carefully handing it to her. She laid it down on the bed next to her, softly stroking the hilt and sheath.

_I'm sorry, shishi._

_I know, Minako. It was gonna happen anyway._

_Too much tension. We were both holding in our emotions._

_It's alright. We both said things we didn't mean._

_I know._

_I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have done that._

_It's ok, shishi._

She looked back up at him sheepishly, noting the look on his face.

"Sorry, but we had to—there were apologies to make. On both sides."

He nodded, still standing there silently and waiting on her explanation.

"We—I was upset. I have been since I got here, but I just bottled it up until today. After I blew up at you, I sat in here and stewed and one thing led to the other—before we knew it we were at each other's throats. The unfortunate thing about sharing emotions is we both feel it, so he was angry and scared and upset and I was angry and scared and upset and we just let it escalate."

She laughed; it was a bitter sound.

"I said something I shouldn't have, he called me a name, and I responded. He was trying to calm me down the same way oji-san does, by scaring me. But I trust him—he wouldn't ever do anything to me! So it just continued to escalate, and we were actually finally getting to the apology point when you came in."

She looked up at him, her expression pleading.

"Please, don't—don't think he's dangerous. He's not. He's all I have, and we sometimes are just too stubborn for each other, and—"

"It's alright, Minako-san, I understand," he said.

"It's just, well, fire-types! They tend to be very stubborn and passionate and violent, and he is of course a manifestation of my own soul, so he is _very _stubborn and violent when he wants to be. Although, what that says about me, well, yeah…"

"It's ok, Minako-san."

He stared at her, and she could tell he was finally calming down, the shock of the situation wearing off. His face, usually so pale, was flushed, and strands of hair were sticking to his cheek. She knew he couldn't have gotten that worked up from the run here, so it had to be his emotions causing the reaction.

She almost felt bad about it, but too much had already happened for her to be worried about how their fight had affected him.

Finally he sighed, then turned to the sword.

"Still, you should not attack her! Not only is she a girl, but she is your other half, yes? You should not do that!" he scolded, his finger out once again.

She could see Hidaruma sweatdrop in her mind, although she also felt some guilt coming from him.

"I think he got the message, Ukitake-taichou," she said, amused at the sight of him berating a sword.

He smiled at her, giving a sharp nod, before giving the sword another quick scowl.

And then coughed.

She looked at him apprehensively; this she remembered. He had to be careful not to get excited. She was pretty sure that trailing her today had been nothing but excitement. And now, looking at him, he looked like he had run a marathon. Definitely too excited.

"Are you alright?"

He nodded, shaking his head to clear the remnants of the coughing from his throat.

"I'm fine, really. Unohana-taichou has become very experienced in healing me. I rarely have attacks anymore. They are usually smaller, but the coughing is still an issue."

"If you're sure," she said, unconvinced. She kept a wary eye focused on him, waiting for some odd collapse.

He just raised his eyebrows at her weird look.

"Well. That's settled, then?" he asked, his normal bright tone back in place.

She nodded and sent him a smile, grateful that he was willing to drop the incident. She knew her uncle would hear about it, but he wouldn't be surprised. She and Hidaruma were very stubborn and he knew it could result in some very heated arguments.

He wouldn't be happy that it had become physical off the training ground, though. She would probably get an earful over it.

"Where's Gen-oji-san?"

"There was a situation he had to take care of. He might not be home tonight. I was told to look after you instead."

"As if I'm not an adult," she said dryly.

He motioned to the spot on the other side of the zanpakutou and she nodded quickly.

He sat down heavily; it must have been a long day for him.

"You overhead our conversation last night, didn't you?"

She nodded, not even bothering to hide it. He was intelligent, and he had most likely pieced together the clues, the largest of which was her drastic change in behavior from yesterday to today. He would have known that something had caused that change.

"Minako-san, Genryuusai-sensei is in a very awkward position. He is not sure what to do with you, really. He wants you safe, and I think he would like you here—permanently. But he also has a duty to Seireitei that is very important to him."

"And I understand that. But if he had no clear course of action, he should have left me alone. Now I'm stuck in this limbo."

She closed her eyes, her body slumping.

"To hear him even _mention_ execution, do you realize…after that first night here, I realized I wouldn't be able to handle prison, much less sitting in a cell waiting for my own death."

"First night?" he asked perplexed.

"It would figure," she murmured. "He didn't tell any of you?"

"Tell us what, Minako-san?"

She opened her eyes and turned toward him.

"I spent my first night here in the very same cell you and Kyouraku-taichou took me to when we got here. After—" it was humiliating to even talk about it, and worse knowing he had witnessed it, "after the night you spent at my apartment, you can imagine how I reacted to _that._"

"He left you there," he said breathlessly.

"Of course. It's classic oji-san. Try and scare me into submission. It's why we got into the huge fight the next day—I wasn't going to let him think such things would still work on me."

"We had no idea he would leave you there," he said, and she could hear the upset returning to his tone.

"It's not that big a deal, really. It was _then_, of course, but I was fine the next morning. Besides, you couldn't have done anything. You _can't _do anything. I hope you realize that."

"I—"

"Don't even say it didn't cross your mind. I've known you for centuries, even if we weren't close. I watched you and taichou most of my life. I know how you two operate. And I heard rumors about what happened when Urahara's pet human came this way to save his friend. I believe, according to Yoruichi, you were about to try to free her from execution."

He smiled at her sheepishly.

"I also owe you an apology," she said, turning from him and crossing her arms over her chest petulantly.

"Oh?" he said, his voice bright and innocent.

"I took it all out on you. I shouldn't have. I was no better than shishi, blowing up at the wrong person."

_I don't think so. I blew up at the right person, onna. Just the wrong time._

The pale man scratched his head, shooting her a dazzling smile. She felt her stomach drop but ignored it.

"It's alright, Minako-san," he said, "but I'm not acting. Both of us always had a bit of a soft spot for you. I might not…be your friend, but I'm not being nice to you to get information."

"You're being nice because you are, I know," she muttered.

_Perhaps I can see what you see in him, _she heard shishi say grudgingly.

_You still have nothing to worry about, shishi._

* * *

It was one of the most beautiful autumn days she had ever seen.

Of course, some of the sappy sentimentality she was currently feeling was most likely due to the fact that she was in Seireitei, sitting on her favorite veranda of her uncle's home, and basically reminiscing about the past by reenacting it. She had often lounged in this same spot decades ago, looking out over the small bit of land and above the buildings of the Gōtei 13 to the hills around Rukongai, watching the seasons change. Autumn and spring were always especially lovely, and that held true even today.

The clouds were marching along, puffy little things with just a shadow of gray hinting that they were likely to join the large mass in the east. The sun was shining momentarily around them as they covered its rays, catching the gold and reds and browns in the trees.

It was beautiful.

It was also somber. The gray of cloud cover took over in the long moments that the sun was hidden, and there was a brisk, cold wind picking up the leaves and adding to the autumn dreariness.

When Aizen had not been around to make trouble, they had often sat here and talked away the hours, or read, or even just had tea and watched the world around the house. She missed those days. It was one of the few things she could really remember in her senses about what her life was like "before."

There was a clear delineation there, too. "Before" encompassed her life when everything was normal and just about as perfect as it ever got. "After" was this limbo she lived in now.

_From angry to maudlin, onna. Are you pregnant?_

She scoffed at him in her mind; he knew better. But he was right—her emotions were all over the map lately. She longed for the control she had before all this started.

Not that it mattered much at present, though.

Her guard today was posted around the perimeter of the house; small fry shinigami from her uncle's division that she could plow through in no time. Ukitake-taichou was nowhere to be found, nor was her uncle.

Whatever had happened yesterday, it had to have been big.

Everyone seemed anxious and alert, and she didn't think it was her presence causing it. Something was going on and she just hadn't been told what.

Her phone was hidden in the inside pocket of the haori she had donned this morning—traditional dress seemed like a good idea if her uncle would be coming home upset—but she didn't pull it out. If he wasn't home by tonight, though, she would make the call.

She doubted her luck would last that long.

Besides, she needed a little more information.

What exactly did he want her to do? She had already decided she would somewhat follow his lead in this, but not from here. She would return home, prepare on her own, and be ready to act as if she would play the role he wanted her to. But she would do it on her own terms.

But she had to find out what he wanted her to do, and she had to figure it out soon. If things were escalating the way she thought they were, they only had days, weeks at the most.

She heard the door slide open and Hikaru's soft footsteps as the old maid set down a new pot of tea on the small tea table. Hikaru's kimono fluttered in the chilly breeze, and she moved to go back into the house, bowing low as she left.

Minako caught her arm and pulled her toward the table.

The woman, so well-versed in understanding what they wanted, smiled and nodded. She sat gracefully next to Minako near the tea table and prepared them both a cup of the steaming tea—black, if her sense of smell was correct—and Minako closed her eyes, soothed by the sounds of tea preparation.

Tea. It was a foundational block of their family.

She sat up straight, no longer lounging against the wooden beam surrounding the enclosed veranda, and looked at the family's oldest servant.

"Are you prepared for this, Hikaru-san?"

Hikaru looked off into the distance, not even pretending to misinterpret her meaning.

"I am prepared as I can be, Minako-dono. All things have an end, just as they have a beginning."

The maid's voice was soft and sensual, yet graceful and understated in a way only women from a forgotten era of their history could manage. It was the voice of a noblewoman, a geisha, and a fighter all rolled into one. These women were strong before they were ever allowed to be so, and it always showed.

"Genryuusai-dono is as well." She sent a small, bittersweet smile toward Minako. "We of the old generation have always known the day would come when we would hand over our world to the younger. It is why we work so tirelessly to assure you all will be ready when the time comes."

"But knowing it and doing it are two very different things," Minako said, her voice low. She had learned the lesson well, that what you thought and what you felt were two very different things when events actually happened.

"Perhaps," the maid said thoughtfully.

"Perhaps, Minako-dono, your generation is just not ready to gain leadership yet. It is usually harder on those left behind."

"Maybe you're right," Minako muttered, staring into her tea.

Maybe they weren't ready to take over after this, if there was an after.

"Minako-dono, do not be saddened by what must happen. All things have a time. Genryuusai-dono has lived longer than most—he has watched most of his family fall to time. If he should fall in this battle, he will not grieve for anything he has lost in the future that will not be."

Minako sighed, and once again turned her gaze to the world around them. The wind was colder now, and the storm was gathering its strength in the mountains above them.

She heard the maid shift again, the kimono creating a rustling noised that could only be made by silk and cotton stretching against each other. She rested her hands on the table and slowly pushed up, the feeble, spindly fingers propelling her upward. She was no longer able to gracefully, almost athletically, rise from the complicated sitting position merely by shifting her feet and standing. Her bones were too brittle in her old age, and Minako found herself feeling desolate at the loss of such a staple of her childhood—this woman's quiet grace and beauty.

"Maybe we will be the ones that lose everything," she murmured, but her eyes lit upon the old maid and she asked her, quietly, "and you, Hikaru-san? If we should die in this battle, what will you do?"

The older woman smiled gently down at her, the halo of soft gray hair framing her face.

"Why, Minako-dono, what I have always done. I will continue on. I have served your family for over two-thousand years, and if you should perish, you will not be the first I have seen do so."

The maid moved toward the house, only stopping briefly to put her hand on the younger woman's shoulder. It was a method of reassurance Minako had received all of her life from the woman who had been more of a mother to her than her own mother.

"It's time then," Minako sighed.

She gathered the haori close around her and began the long trek up to her room.

There was a packet, hidden under her large, western-style bed, one that no one had seen the contents of in years. It was mostly a jumble of photos, many of her and some with others, but they told an important story.

The photos were placed in chronological order, with dates and the location printed in a solid handwriting on the back.

There was one—the first one—that clearly showed her and another woman on the steps of a shrine in Kyoto. It had been a quick trip, mainly taken for the celebration of a New Year festival they had wanted to see firsthand. It was dated January 23, 1986.

A second photo had been taken at the Electronics Expo in Okinawa that they had attended purely out of curiosity. Cell phones were just beginning to go commercial, and cds were brand new, still not mainstream. It was dated November 10, 1992.

There was another, much more recent, of her and the same woman, except they had visited an art museum in Tokyo this time. The museum had exhibited featured paintings of European artists, paintings you usually couldn't see without visiting larger, more renowned museums in France and Italy. It was dated July 2, 1998.

Another was of her and the same woman, yet again, but they were in front of a very large monastery that sat high in the mountains above Rukongai. It was clearly visible from the house, and they had spent almost a week exploring the grounds, getting to know the men that, even in death, were devoted to Buddhism. It had been a horrible year for anyone in the human world, especially those like her who had friends in New York or had lived there before, and they had gone outside of it to find solace. It was dated December 21, 2001.

The one at the bottom of the stack, though, was truly important. It was the last photo taken of them together, and it was from a small photo booth set up at a local festival. The plaza had been filled with revelers, streamers, balloons, and the sky filled with fireworks. It was the last time they had been able to enjoy such a carefree day.

Barely three years ago. Her hair was long, filtering over her shoulder and the shoulder of the smiling woman scrunched next to her on the booth seat, and there was a small piece of something caught in it. They both looked tired but happy, their kimono bright and cheerful for the summer celebration. The photo booth had been one of their last stops that day—too many of the small booths with food and games had caught their attention. It had been an afterthought, really.

There were others, of course, but those were the ones that stuck out in her mind, either because they were important dates or due to the memories they had created.

There was also, included in the small bundle she had secreted out of her house, a small book. It was blank when she bought it, but now it contained information that could be considered important to anyone in their family. It was a sort of diary of each of the pictures, explaining where they had gone and why, and it explained the existence of the photos in explicit detail.

Finally, there was a small, wrapped bundle of papers. Each one carried the seal of Central on it, and each one detailed the finer points of what her mother had believed the traitors to be attempting. Urahara and Yoruichi were not the only ones dead set against the course Central had taken in the last two centuries; even members of the elite group had been fighting back, although they had not been successful.

It was one single sheet of paper in this packet that had brought her mother to the human world in search of her.

The packet, which had been kept from others' eyes for so long, was going to be left somewhere certain persons could easily find it. The moment would come to her, she knew. After she was gone, the information would be valued by the older maid and, probably, even by her uncle. And she would be gone, far from here, and it couldn't hurt her. If she did survive this battle, she would go back into hiding somewhere they would never find her.

She did not feel guilt for missing her uncle more than she had her mother. She did not need Urahara to tell her when she died, when Aizen had killed off every member of the Central 46. She hadn't needed her uncle to tell her that they had stopped eating meals together long before her mother's death, the wound in the family that her absence had created finally festering and splitting them apart. She hadn't needed to look at the portrait on his desk in the study to see how her mother had subtlety aged.

She had already known.

* * *

A/N: We shall return to the regular update schedule now. As for the Japanese lesson, the only word I really caught was _haori_, which is a jacket-type clothing item, or sometimes a very heavy, long shirt.


	14. Chapter 13

A/N: As usual, all the important information is lurking in the notes of the first two parts. This will be a little different, though. I've stuck to Minako's p.o.v. through most of the story, but I'm going to start switching that up now; things will be occurring that she won't be around for but will be important to the plot.

And something I've noticed, but will not fix: I've given Kyouraku brown eyes. I was watching an episode where he had grey eyes today and realized that. Hmm. I got that piece of info. from an earlier episode. Apparently the animators have done a switcharoo on me, something they do regularly, and I got caught in it. But I now have an image of him in my mind with brown eyes, so he stays that way.

Also, to reiterate what I said in the last chapter, if **anyone** has a question, feel free to PM me or e-mail me. I am completely okay with anything you might ask, be it a clarification or just "what the heck does that word mean?" You can't enjoy the story unless you understand it and I don't know there is a problem if you don't approach me about it. I'm a very nice person, I promise, and I won't bite anyone's head off if they have a question. Just contact me about it and I'll get you an answer.

As always, R & R! I've put quite a bit of work into this story (I'm now over 250 pages in my drafts, which get severely edited when I upload the first copy) and I'm glad that there are many of you enjoying it. I write because I enjoy it, but I like to hear that you guys are happy reading! Reviews give me a little boost in my writing.

Which reminds me, I must give a shout-out to DarkestHour over on AFF, who was (as close as I can tell) my 500th review/fave/alert. It took me a while to add it all up. I've been overwhelmed by the amount of support I have received for this story, even if it hasn't done so well on certain sites *cough* FF *cough*. I don't know what it is, perhaps the rating, but I never seem to do as well there as I do on my other sites.

Enjoy!

* * *

"The Noble Sort"

* * *

Her uncle had arrived home shortly before dinner, a glower on his face and a deep slump in his weary shoulders. Whatever had happened, it was big.

He sat himself at the head of the table slowly and she could see the exhaustion rolling off of him. He looked older than she had ever seen him, and he barely looked like he would make it through dinner. She sunk to the place on his left carefully and slowly, hoping to not jar the table or make any loud noises. He looked, literally, dead on his feet. She would be as amenable as possible for the evening.

Hikaru came in silently, her graceful movements precise and efficient. Nothing was wasted with the maid and soon dinner had been laid out and they had been served from each of the separate platters bearing traditional foods, with Hikaru leaving out a vegetable here or a spicy piece of meat there. She knew better than they did what they would and would not eat.

Her uncle slowly picked up the elaborate onyx chopsticks that Hikaru had set out for the night and they ate the first half of the meal—an elaborately grilled tuna and salmon entrée with teriyaki sauce, rice, and vegetable mixes—in silence.

Finally, her uncle sat his chopsticks on the side of his smaller plate, reaching for the steaming cup of tea to his right. Then, his eyes opened—never a good sign—and he looked at her.

"Momo-chan," he sighed, his face drooping.

"Oji-san?" she looked at him, almost fearfully, dreading what he was about to say.

"A group of taichou and their subordinates have been sent to Hueco Mundo. They are following two shinigami that have broken protocol and gone themselves, all after a ningen female we cannot be sure is not a traitor."

She stared at him, her shock evident.

But the full meaning of what he had said was soon clear—they were very close to the final battle. He would not have sent troops in otherwise, especially taichou.

"So that's where my babysitter is?" she asked, her voice low.

"No. He is preparing for our final assault on Aizen. It will not be an easy feat to pull off."

She glanced over at him before settling her eyes on her plate. The tuna was starting to cool, flaking apart in tiny little squares that only fish could pull off naturally.

"And what is your _plan?"_

"A fake of your human city. The real Karakura will be transferred here, where it can be protected. We will meet him head on there and hope he will not set a foot inside Seireitei."

"It sounds simple."

He snorted.

"We have to move and support an entire city, while putting them to sleep. It has never been done that I can think of."

She looked up at him again before poking her tuna with her chopsticks. It was definitely cold, and the sauce was starting to crust.

"And you have a part for me to play in this elaborate _plan_ of yours," she said, her cynical attitude evident.

"Once the shinigami have sufficiently secured the pillars supporting the fake replica of Karakura, you will be responsible for setting up a barrier that can protect most of the town. Obviously, not all of them can be contained. But if a barrier can be created to hold enough humans that Aizen will not be able to utilize them to create the key, then we will have succeeded."

She dropped her chopsticks, staring at him in shock.

"I can't possibly—all he would have to do is kill me—"

"I have already anticipated this. You will use your six-seal barrier to protect them, putting yourself inside if needed."

He sighed, letting the façade drop, and rubbed his forehead.

"If Aizen should make it that far, you will only be buying time. I have a feeling that, if Retsu is correct, that is all any of us will be doing."

"Okay," she said, gesticulating wildly above her plate as her anger started to manifest, "I trap myself in and keep the humans sealed. What then?"

"You wait."

"Oh, really," she said sarcastically.

"You buy time for the substitute shinigami. According to Retsu, he has never seen Aizen's shikai; he cannot be fooled by it and is the only one capable of truly defeating him."

She flicked her hand over at him, waving randomly.

"You could."

"Possibly," he conceded, nodding his head.

"But you're preparing for the eventuality that he makes it past you and however many taichou you will have with you, as well as—let's just face it—the other shinigami in the human world."

He nodded slowly.

"Never mind the fact that my barrier can't even be utilized like that!" she exclaimed, her head falling to rest in her hands, elbows thumping the table and jarring the plates and platters still present.

He looked at her, his dark eyes serious.

"Then you had better get to the point where it can."

"You—you—I…" she stared at him in disbelief.

"I _am_ serious, Minako."

"The Rokumon does not _work that way!_" she cried. "It's multi-dimensional—for a reason, too. To set it up on an even plane, to be able to surround that much area—I don't think I even have the reishi for that!"

"I am sure you do, and that you can."

He stroked his beard thoughtfully.

"The first three seals are set up on an even plane, yes?"

"I—yes," she sweatdropped. "But the last three, they're special. It's the only way to form a perfect sphere."

"I do not want a sphere. A sphere is not useful; I want half of one."

She just looked at him, her disbelief still written on her face.

"But three seals…he'd blow through it in no time. And that's if I can actually manage to manipulate the natural shape of the first half of the barrier."

"Which is why you will find a way to create the last three seals upon the same even plane of the first three."

She glared at him again. Did he even realize what he was asking? Not only would she have to try to completely modify a barrier that had been one of the hardest things for her to create, she would…

"All six? You know what you're asking of me," she said, her voice fearful.

"I do, Minako."

His voice was weary and mournful, an anguished tone she had never heard from him before, and she realized that he had had that thought thousands of times since she had arrived in Seireitei.

But wasn't it something she had planned already? She was sure that she would end up using her bankai in this fight anyway, no matter the possible consequences. He was only asking for what she had already said she would do, just in a different way.

"All six seals, _in a new freakin' formation,_ and I'll have no choice but to go bankai. To fully create the barrier, I have to. I can only use the first three without it. And—on _one plane."_

"I won't be worth much time," she said, already calculating in her mind, "even if I can modify it the way I would like to."

"Do you know how long you can hold it?"

She didn't even pretend she didn't know what he was talking about.

"I have—before—it's been almost thirty years since my last full, monitored attempt. I've learned to control it better. Maybe twenty minutes? Maybe more?"

His eyes closed, and she could read the feeling of defeat that had just overcome him.

"You were once able to hold a seal barrier for over an hour as long as you were not using the attacks to accompany it."

"Well," she said bitterly, "that was before. Twenty minutes is pushing it—I'll most likely be insane when I'm done. I think. Oh, hell, who knows? This is beyond what I've tried so far."

She saw his chest rise as he took in a deep breath and sighed, but the air never seemed to come out again.

"It won't buy you much time. But it will buy some, and if it is that big of a deal, hopefully half an hour will be helpful." She looked up at him questioningly, trying to hide her curiosity and her nervousness. "Will Zero be informed and ready as well?"

"Zero will be holding steady, waiting, in case he should succeed and actually make the key."

He looked at her, and she saw his hand shake in her peripheral vision. It jerked toward her and then stilled.

"Can you do it?"

"I'll need a place to practice. If I can somehow manage the seals before bankai, I can buy more time…"

His hand finally gave up the fight, and he brushed a piece of hair out of her face, his knuckles barely caressing her cheek. It had been years since he'd allowed himself such a measure of affection, even before she had left.

"You shall have it."

* * *

_Two Days Later_

Around lunchtime, Kyouraku finally happened upon him. Most likely he had finally put some effort into tracking him down. He knew he had to feel a little slighted, though, and the guilt tore at him. It wasn't right of him to avoid his best friend, but he didn't feel much like socializing at present.

"Ukitake, where have you been? You haven't visited me in almost a week, my friend," he said lazily, and a little sadly.

He plopped down on the ground next to the pale taichou, who had never even turned his eyes toward him, and raised his sakkat slowly.

"Aa," he said, a grin coming over his face.

"Don't get any ideas, Shunsui," Juushirou warned.

They were hidden by the few trees still fleshed out with leaves, and they were overlooking a small area that their sensei had brought them to for training centuries before. Now, though, the clearing was filled with only a woman and black dog, both of which seemed incredibly tired.

"What is she attempting?"

"I do not know," Juushirou murmured. "They have been there all morning, and while I have seen some evidence of her calling up an attack, they have not done anything in the past hour but stare at each other."

"They are conversing, Juushirou," he said lazily. He laid back on the dead grass, his sakkat falling over his face.

"I guessed that much," he said, smiling.

He had, truly, not seen anything out of the ordinary. Not even the seals he had heard so much about. There had also been no evidence of a barrier being put up.

"She is _very_ pretty, Juu," Shunsui said teasingly, "I wouldn't have chosen her for my division otherwise."

Juushirou glanced over at his friend, only the sly grin on his face visible due to the hat falling over the rest of his face. He resisted the urge to smack it upward, something he had fought many times before. He finally just shook his head. Shunsui would always be more interested in romantic nothings and partying than in the particulars of someone's training.

He couldn't deny that he had noticed her beauty, understated as it was. She was not, in all actuality, gorgeous. She wasn't a Matsumoto. She wasn't even like Nanao, a quiet beauty. She was fiery and fierce, much like Yoruichi. They had a rough beauty that made them that much more dangerous. Almost like a gorgeous snake you knew you shouldn't touch because the shape of the head told you it was definitely venomous.

"She is," he finally conceded.

"If only I had acted when she was in my division," his friend sighed, and he immediately realized how little truth there was in the statement. If Shunsui had been interested, Minako would have been between his sheets. Period.

Besides…this was not someone Shunsui had ever looked at romantically; he could tell.

"She's not your type."

"Not yours, either."

He was right, of course. He had always had a tendency to choose women much like him, gentle and content. The hair was right, as was her build, but the personality she had was a little too fiery.

"I'm not looking for female companionship at the moment, Shunsui. And if I was, well—"

"You wouldn't go after sensei's niece? It has a lovely taboo quality to it though, yes?" Shunsui sighed, his hand fluttering above him. "Perfect for a romantic poem."

He chuckled.

"This is not poetry."

"Perhaps not," Shunsui murmured.

They were both ripped from their conversation by the sound of lightning, although they soon realized it had come from the woman below. It was nothing unusual, though. She had been throwing attacks around all morning, and Juushirou relaxed the set of his shoulders once again.

"That would be the first seal," Shunsui murmured.

His eyes flew open in astonishment. She had been opening gates all morning without him knowing?

"I was sure there would be some sign of a _seal_ or a _gate_ or—or _something_!" he exclaimed.

"There is, sometimes. But lightning is the first seal." His finger tipped his sakkat up, and he locked eyes with his friend. "Then, fire. Finally, tenka—the mix of the first two seals. I've never seen the last three."

His sakkat was slapped down again, and he settled back into his comfortable position.

"Then she has repeatedly opened the first two."

He looked down at his friend questioningly.

"And the pillar of fire? Which one—"

"Not a seal, Juushirou. An attack. _Hibashira_. Her personal favorite, really, if I remember right."

"You remember quite a bit, for a drunk," he said jokingly.

"I've had four fuku-taichou. I remember them all." The mournful tone in his voice struck Juushirou heavily; they had both lost subordinates they cared about. Both knew what it was like to mourn the subordinates that had gone before you.

"At least three are still alive, even if two are not around."

He paused, seeing that the look had not yet left his friend's face.

"Have you forgiven her yet?" he asked, his voice low and sympathetic.

"_Yare_, I forgave her when we found her," he said, his voice holding a tone of finality, the same tone he had used numerous times before when speaking of the past.

They were silent again as she ripped through the second seal and fire raged in front of her.

"You find her interesting," Shunsui said, his teasing tone reappearing.

Shunsui could read him too well.

"Why do you say that?" he said, making sure he sounded shocked and very, very innocent.

"You haven't taken your eyes off her for a minute. You volunteered to follow her around. I know you, my friend. You're interested in her, and not just because she's Yama-jii's niece."

Once again, he had the urge to slap his friend, but fought it.

The only way to avoid answering or lying was to be silent.

He stared down at the woman below him; the black dog was missing. Most likely he had gone back into his normal form for another attempt.

"Do you know what she's attempting, Shunsui?"

"Nah. Yama-jii didn't say."

He nodded absently, his gaze once again fixed on her.

Why did she interest him? Shunsui was right, he had felt drawn to her from the first time he had seen her again. But she was uncooperative, stubborn, fiery, dark—many things he had never considered even worth noting before. And the people she considered friends…

Perhaps it was the difference in their characters which drew him to her, much the same way anyone was drawn to investigate things that were opposite, or different. But he doubted it. He had also wondered if it was just to mark the differences in her; she was no longer the little girl they had watched grow up and he wondered if he was just marking the growth of another shinigami.

But something told him that wasn't it.

He would never admit an attraction to her, either. It was impossible to be attracted to someone who was obviously so different than he was.

Yet…

He could hear the word rolling around the back of his mind. He ignored it.

He was torn from his musings by a rushing sound he had never heard before, and he saw that she had finally ripped through the third seal—gate—something Shunsui had mentioned. There was a small fire burning right where the lightning had struck just seconds before. _Tenka._

Finally, the seals were evident.

There were three floating in the air in front of her, all laid out in the shape of a triangle. There was an incandescent yellow glow coming from them, as well as in the shape of a triangle, connecting the seals which were acting as points of connection for the large shape. It was as if she had placed a barrier around the area.

He watched as she slowly approached, her arms moving this way and that. The seals were moving at her command, he realized quickly. She was enlarging the barrier and moving the seals around with her gestures.

He watched, in awe, as she stretched it to the size of a division barracks, then she stood still.

"I've never seen this," Shunsui said breathlessly, and he realized his friend was sitting up and focused on the woman as much as he was.

"She never used it in front of you?" he asked, surprised.

"Of course she has," he said, waving his hand, "but moving it like that? No. I didn't know she could."

They were quiet.

"What _is _she doing?" Shunsui said.

He just shrugged.

Finally she stepped up to the barrier, approaching one of the flat sides, and literally tugged at it with one of her hands. The fluorescent line moved and wobbled but immediately snapped into position.

Then, she moved her left hand, flicking it violently to the left, and one of the seals flew outward.

The shape—now a very elongated triangle, held.

She flicked the hand again, and another seal moved.

Finally she flicked her right hand, moving the seal closest to her. The barrier lines stretched immediately and became a small circle, hovering above the ground momentarily.

And then blew up.

The sound was deafening, but it didn't seem to have harmed her in the least.

The black dog appeared instantly and she turned to the side, already deep in conversation.

"I'll be damned," Shunsui said, his shock evident.

"She's trying to modify it. To contain something," Juushirou said, also finally figuring out what she had been attempting the entire morning.

"No telling what, though."

"Not with Genryuusai-sensei, no," Juushirou conceded.

They watched for another two hours as she repeatedly called up the barrier, apparently satisfied she could manipulate the three seals.

Eventually, the barrier had stopped exploding instantly, and they settled down comfortably, Shunsui lightly napping while he rested against a tree. She continued to manipulate the seals in front of her, though, seals he could finally see, and tried to get them to hold the shape she wanted.

After about another half an hour, he realized there had been no explosion. He shook Shunsui's shoulder and the man sat up quickly, worried something had occurred.

Down below them, the barrier was gone. She was sitting, patiently, and fiddling with something in her lap.

"She's most likely meditating, Juushirou. Trying to figure out how she did it," Shunsui said, lying back again.

Juushirou watched, perplexed.

She was just sitting there, and she wasn't in any meditative position he knew of.

"Maybe we should go check," he said, anxiety evident in his voice.

"Yare," Shunsui breathed out, lightly smacking his friend's leg. "Leave her alone."

He continued to watch her.

She stayed there, sitting calmly in the middle of an area now scorched by flame and lightning, for another twenty minutes.

Finally she got up, slowly, and moved to the small pack she had brought with her. She glanced around, quickly, and he felt her eyes ghost over their position. He was sure she hadn't seen them, but he knew she had the idea someone was sent to watch her.

The fact that she had had her back to him all day finally made him wary.

He would _not_ underestimate her. She was very much like sensei, and that was warning enough to be alert and on the lookout for any tricks. Genryuusai-sensei had once been a very manipulative, tricky man that delighted in the fact that no one knew his next move until after he had already gotten three steps ahead of them.

She dug through the small pack, pulling out a wrapped bundle of some sort, and laid it on the ground. It wasn't very thick, but it was wrapped in what seemed to be very expensive blue silk and tied tightly. Way too fancy to be a lunch, although he first thought that was what it must be—she had been going all day without any food.

The bundle was left on the ground where her pack had been while the pack was slung onto her shoulder. She looked down at her wrist, then turned suddenly.

She stared right at them.

"Shunsui—"

He was up and moving by the time Shunsui had even sat up, but he could now hear his friend following close behind him.

They would still be too late.

He saw the doors appear in front of her, halfway across the large area, and he saw hell butterflies flit through the opening. There were two figures—at this distance he couldn't make them out—and she quickly sprang into action.

Before he knew it she was sandwiched by the two and they had another door opening right beside the other one.

His shunpo brought him close enough to smell the ozone left over from her practice mixing with the murky, almost moldy smell the in-between space always had, but it was no use.

The door closed before they could even get close enough to grab her, and the three that had been there before were gone, the doors closed and disappearing.

Juushirou stared at the air in front of him, his chest heaving, and he felt Shunsui come up beside him, also heaving.

_Again, _he thought. _She did it again._

Any benefit of doubt he had given her was gone as quickly as she had disappeared.

He heard Shunsui's curse but ignored it to step over to the package she had left on the ground. He bent to pick it up and, unwrapping it slowly, let the silk hang on his arm as he cradled the box it had hidden. It was a beautiful lacquer box, something you would expect jewelry or ornamental family heirlooms to be stored in. Obviously expensive and definitely from her father's side of the family, considering the small metal lock that could be used to secure the box held the Yamamoto family sigil.

Instead of jewelry or family finery, upon opening it, he found a book. And pictures. Lots of them.

He sucked in a quick breath, feeling the chilled air agitate his weak lungs, and he heard Shunsui do the same next to him.

"Shit," Shunsui said, his face no longer a mask of laziness but pulled into a sincere look of shock.

All of the pictures were of Minako and her mother, Yamamoto Arisu, in the human world. Someone had known where she was all along and never said.

* * *

A/N: The Japanese lesson for this chapter, only including the words I believe are new (I won't continually translate words I've already explained, but like I said earlier, you can contact me with any question you have):

_Tenka_ is fire that comes from a lightning strike

_Hibashira_ literally means pillar of flame


	15. Chapter 14

A/N: As usual, all the important information is lurking in the notes of the first two parts.

Little bit of filler here. Sorry, but I've got to advance the plot. At least it's a short filler, right?

As always, R & R! It motivates the muses, which are greatly strained right now. They're having a little issue, fighting over a plot point that will be very important around chapter 33. One of my muses decided to throw a wrench into the whole thing and change part of my very-planned-out plot, so everything's a mess right now.

Enjoy!

* * *

"The Noble Sort"

* * *

It was amazing to be home.

Well, somewhat closer to home, anyway.

Home was not what she considered the area underneath Urahara's shop to be, but it was close enough. Here, she was free. If she wanted to go somewhere she just had to call upstairs and make sure no shinigami had stopped by. She was safe, not a prisoner, and she had chosen it. It was different.

Besides, Ururu had fitted her little tent out quite nicely.

She was camping out behind one of the large cliffs, just in case anyone happened to come down there. Although it was doubtful they would. Urahara had told her the few shinigami that knew it existed were all in Hueco Mundo and not to worry. She had free reign of the Urahara-Underworld, not that there was anything truly interesting down there.

That was, of course, after Yoruichi had torn into him. She had really enjoyed that. It was rare that he got what he deserved, the manipulative bastard, and she enjoyed seeing it. It was his fault for thinking he could successfully keep anything from her for any decent amount of time. He should have known better. Yoruichi, like any decent Shihōin, knew what her man would do before even he did. And on the rare occasion he did pull a fast one on her, she caught up quick and usually made him pay for it. And she was very inventive when it came to punishment.

She hadn't been sure she made the right decision until she was here. Even when Yoruichi and Shinji had shown up, right in front of her, she still doubted. But when she had gotten back and they had crowded her down here to practice and hide out, she finally realized it was right.

She would practice here, sleep if needed, and still be able to go to the other house if she wanted. Her apartment was a loss, but she had a home she could go to in the meantime if the shinigami kept trying to find her.

There was a brief pang of guilt when she realized how furious her uncle would be and the disappointment her former taichou and his friend would feel due to her actions, but it was worth it. She was free to choose to be in this battle instead of being forced into it, and it was important to her.

_If you would have listened to me, we would have been gone earlier._

She ignored him.

If she was going to perish in this fight, she was going to spend her last few days the way she wanted, where she wanted. It was only fair.

Besides, by now they were too busy pondering the present she had left them to be too angry. And knowing her uncle, he would understand her message and leave her be after a halfhearted attempt to bring her back.

Her phone beeped next to her, and she slid her finger along the screen to open it.

It was a short text from Urahara.

_~Shinigami here. Stay down.~_

Of course they were checking him out. There was only one man who could have possibly opened those gates, especially simultaneously like that. It took skill to pop open gates that close to each other and with only a second or so of a time lag.

She threw her phone down on the futon and stepped out of the little tent, making sure to get a decent distance away from her makeshift camp. It was time to perfect this. She wanted to spend a night in a big bath and one of her own beds before everything went down.

She steadied herself, stretching. It was time to prepare for the many failed attempts she would face in the next few days.

She took in the lovely surroundings and grinned. They wouldn't be so pretty in a few hours.

* * *

Meanwhile, upstairs, Yoruichi and Urahara were being glared at by the very angry taichou of the Second Division.

Soifon had appeared not ten minutes before and only an hour after the trip to Seireitei. They hadn't even finished their argument before she had appeared before them, welcomed by Urahara's unusual grumpy attitude and snarky remark that he wished the shinigami would stop opening gates in his house. He had a reason to be angry, truthfully; for an exile, they all knew where he was and didn't seem to mind dropping in on him all the time.

But it hadn't phased the tiny woman, who had proceeded to rip him into little shreds and blame him for everything that had ever gone wrong in her life.

It was normal with the little spitfire, and he let her words brush off of him. Although, he would admit to getting very tired of upholding the façade—just once he would enjoy pointing out that Yoruichi had done much of it on her own, without his help or input.

Soifon gave her cousin too little credit.

But most of his bad mood was placed at her feet, and everyone around knew it. He hated it when they fought.

"What were you thinking, Yoruichi-sama?" Soifon exclaimed, her malevolent glare directed at the blond man she considered the culprit behind every spurious action of her mentor.

He was responsible for her behavior, she knew it.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Yoruichi said lazily and all too innocently, propping herself up on the small table in front of her.

"You willingly helped a captive of Seireitei escape. Apparently a very important, high-security captive."

"If I did, it was for a good reason."

She smiled.

"I'm not gonna let you guys go around executing people for no reason, you know."

Soifon jerked minutely. It was barely visible, but Yoruichi caught it.

"Didn't know that, huh?" She shot a glare at her lover. "Neither did I until a few hours ago."

"It doesn't matter, Yoruichi-sama. Yamamoto-sou-taichou is furious, and he sent me to get her. And we know you had a hand in it—Kyouraku-taichou saw you."

The black woman shrugged, and yawned.

"You can't do anything to me. I'm not afraid of retaliation from the Gōtei 13. I would be long gone before you ever got the chance."

She grinned.

"She's not here. Check all the rooms."

Soifon glanced around. If she was offering so easily, then she wasn't here.

"Where is she?"

"Did you think to check her apartment, Soifon-san?" the blond man asked, his innocent voice somewhat muffled by the fan in front of his face. His bubbly persona was back in place, only angering the small woman further.

A vein on her forehead popped out dangerously.

"She's not there," she forced out, her teeth gritted.

"Well," he said, his fan popping closed and a freakish smile appearing on his face, "she's not here! I don't know _where_ she might be!"

A cat wandered by her feet, wearing some sort of distracting cone-shaped collar around its neck and a weird hat—helmet, maybe. Soifon had the quick thought that she probably didn't want to know what this man had done to the defenseless animal.

His perverse science infuriated her.

"Yoruichi-sama, please," she begged. If it came to it, she would do it. Begging was not something she was accustomed to, but if she went back empty-handed it was going to be her in trouble. At least, if Yamamoto's mood was any indication of her future.

"I can't help you, Soifon, sorry," she said, her hand coming down to scratch at the tatami mat she was sitting on.

The cat immediately turned to the noise and sprang into attack mode, jumping at her hand on its hind legs before batting at her fingers with tiny paws.

Soifon sighed, turning around as the gate reappeared.

She moved to step through, the hell butterfly fluttering around her head, but then stopped. She turned, focusing on the two in front of her.

"If he finds out you helped her hide, he'll come after you. I don't know who she is, but she was obviously of some importance. You should worry about yourself, not _his _misfit friends."

She turned again, disappearing through the gate, and it slipped closed and disappeared. The two in the room sighed, sitting up and taking on serious expressions.

"Soifon, he'll be too dead to do so. Just like the rest of us," Yoruichi said, her words dark and ominous.

Urahara just stared at her, his eyes glittering in the dark shadow of his hat.

* * *

Things were just heating up in the First Division's quarters. Yamamoto was indeed furious, although he wasn't letting it show as much as some would.

Shunsui and Juushirou were standing off to the side, slumped and visibly repentant. They looked as much like two chastised boys as he could ever remember them looking, which was the only bright spot in the sou-taichou's very long, very aggravating day.

She had done it. Again.

He had warned Juushirou numerous times to stay on her, not to underestimate her. Minako would not give up so easily, no matter how placid she had seemed while in their custody. It was not a trait she was known for.

But the man was too nice to really listen and understand the warning; Yamamoto doubted he had ever really been up against someone as devious as his niece. It was a family trait that he was once very proud of and now wished to bury.

His attention was pulled to the middle of the room, to the large double doors opposite his own chair as they opened.

Soifon, one of the few taichou he had that truly took their responsibilities seriously, appeared in the crack between the doors, and they were shut soon after her. He didn't even need to open his eyes to know she had failed—she was alone; only one person's footfalls could be heard in the cavernous room.

"I could not find her. Yoruichi-sama and _that_ _man_ obviously know where she is, but they won't say. Her apartment was empty; there were no clues as to where she might have gone. No reiatsu to trace, no clues at all."

He nodded at her slowly and then waved his hand.

"There is more, sou-taichou. I do know _why_ they came for her…"

He was silent.

"Obviously, Yoruichi-sama only recently found out she was here. I am not sure how they knew each other—most obviously they did—and the time she found out about the prisoner's captivity was not long before she was assisted in her escape."

She looked down.

"Yoruichi-sama said she would not allow execution of the woman for no legitimate reason."

All three men could hear the question in her voice, but when the sou-taichou merely waved his hand again, she followed her orders, ignoring her personal curiosity over the mystery. She left in a flurry, obviously upset about her failure, but it was to be expected. He doubted his niece would be found a second time, even if it meant she went so far underground no one ever found her.

He glanced at the two men on his right, the entire reason he was even here.

"Execution, Juushirou?" he said accusingly.

The pale taichou put his hands up in front of him, waving wildly.

"I did not say anything! She overheard you mention it, Genryuusai-sensei."

"Nevertheless, she escaped on your watch."

Juushirou hung his head, despondent.

"I understand, Genryuusai-sensei. And I apologize."

"Yama-jii, it's really my fault," Shunsui said, his relaxed visage never changing.

The old man just looked away.

They stood there a few more minutes, unsure of what they should do, but he waved at them and they, like Soifon, took off. No one wanted to stick around with him in that sort of mood.

He looked at the lacquered box in his lap, tracing the pattern on the side of the box. He knew who it had belonged to.

_Arisu._

The fact that she had known where his niece—her daughter—was, and had not told him…

It had been burning like betrayal in his gut for the past hour and a half.

She had never let him know, never even hinted where she was going. Of course, he had no idea of how frequently she had been leaving Seireitei as they no longer saw each other regularly. Any trip she would have taken was easily concealed; he would have just thought she was working or avoiding him.

Now, though, at least he knew why she had taken to avoiding him.

He wasn't sure what his reaction would have been if she had told him. He could have been as furious as he was now, requested Minako be brought back for trial, or he could have just wanted to see her, to bring her back.

It didn't matter, though. Not any longer.

He opened the box, picking up one of the many photos. He had already looked through them, but this was his immediate favorite. They were obviously at some sort of monastery, both dressed very traditionally. Arisu, with her blond hair and red eyes, stuck out. She was tall next to her dark daughter, but they both looked incredibly happy—content. He was glad they had restored their relationship before Arisu's death. It had weighed on him heavily, when he found out. The idea that they would never be able to forgive each other had caused him many sleepless nights after her death.

They were the only family he had had for centuries.

There was also a book, detailing how they had finally reconciled. It had both Minako and Arisu's handwriting in it, and he knew they had both collaborated, together, to explain to him how this had all happened. According to the book, everything in the box was back-up, just in case Minako had found herself in the very situation he put her in.

It was very much like them to make sure every angle was covered.

Finally, there were other pictures, some that had really made his blood boil. There was one of the Visored group, something he was still very indecisive on. There were many loose, scattered and not having any connection to each other except that each featured his niece accompanied by shinigami he knew had defected long before for some reason or another. Apparently, they had all formed their own small network, keeping in touch when needed. It was unbelievable none of them had ever been caught, even though some of them were exiles and would have never been chased in the first place.

He continued on, pulling out the two small, folded papers that had been deliberately stuck into the small book where he would see them instantaneously, the awkward placement obvious amongst the neatness of all the organized contents of the box.

The first was obviously an order from Central; it was on the official letterhead and had the signature of a man he had not seen in over a century. In a very unusual move, the man had been promoted to Zero about fifty years before, as had two or three of his associates. It had brought some speculation but nothing too serious.

Now, though, he wondered what had really happened.

With everyone from Central murdered the librarians had taken over their databases and papers. It was a jumble—everything was in code—and they hadn't gotten through a fourth of the papers left behind.

But he understood the date, 26.01.5641. Not even a year before Minako's first disappearance. He recognized his niece's name, Aizen's name, even the name of the exiles Urahara had helped so many decades ago. And he recognized the names of the two men who had signed off on whatever the order was: Rashogen Jin and Nishiori Kirin._  
_

He understood nothing else, but he knew that the copy Choujirou had made would soon be on its way to the best he had in their personal service. He would know the contents of the letter as soon as they were able to break the cipher.

The other, though, was even more special.

The stationary was his own, a special sort he ordered stocked for his personal study. It was usually only used for very formal orders, something his niece would have recognized. She would have known he would realize it was his immediately.

The note was short, in his niece's very familiar handwriting, but it served its purpose. He could once again feel the fury abating, settling into his normal calm.

_Gen-oji-san,_

_I'll do my part. Don't worry. I just have to do it my way for once. _

_If I stay in Seireitei I'll never get this done. And we should just admit it, we're probably both dead when this is over. I want to spend my last few days the way I want, not caged up and followed everywhere and unable to enjoy these last few days of freedom._

_Minako_

It was hers, obviously. It was her speech, her pattern. It was too much like the many little notes she used to leave tacked around the house where he would see them, telling him she was on a mission or with a friend for the night.

But the postscript was almost too much. It was an old friend; it matched the hundreds of notes that cluttered one of the cabinets in his study at the house. His heart had skipped a beat when he saw it, and he had had to force down a smile. It wouldn't do to let the boys know how much it had affected him.

_P.S. Love from Momo-chan._

Complete with the ridiculous western heart. It was a ridiculous thing she had learned from her taichou and continued on in her personal correspondence.

_P.P.S. Don't forget to pay Ukitake-taichou for my lunch. I forgot._

He would ring her neck when he finally got a hold of her, dead or not.

* * *

A/N: I had, at one point, included the entire ciphered letter from Central, but I've given you the important bits instead and left it out. Seemed less confusing that way (although part of me balks at it; I spent over an hour coding that sucker!).


	16. Chapter 15

A/N: As usual, all the important information is lurking in the notes of the first two parts. There's a little bit of comic relief at the end, too, just to lighten things up.

And someone has already asked me—where's Ichigo?

Hueco Mundo. All of this takes place, so far, a little before and between Orihime's capture and the final battle. The first situation her uncle has to take care of—Orihime. The second—the rest going to Hueco Mundo.

So he's in Hueco Mundo, fighting Arrancar. This story doesn't really focus on him but the others; I feel that Kubo created these awesome characters and we see too little of them as everything focuses on Ichigo. He's not here. Leave him a message, though, and I'm sure he'll get back to you once Aizen's dead, ok? _Or not, considering the massive curveballs we've been thrown in the manga…_

And I'm going to make a nice little disclaimer here: I've finally finished reading the Masked Character Databook, which throws a wrench into my entire story. There are some interesting things said by Kubo that lead me to believe I've been right on quite a few things, but he has also stated that one of the two arcs left in the series will introduce the Royal Guard. I wasn't going to even say anything about my next arc until we got there, but in light of this let me say that the second arc of this story deals with Zero, or the Royal Guard. I have made up everything about it as Kubo hasn't given us any information yet. But at some point he's going to, apparently, and I've probably gotten everything completely different from what he will say.

So I'm not copying him, I swear, I just apparently decided to explore the one thing he hasn't and now he's going to fill in that blank for us.

Enjoy!

* * *

"The Noble Sort"

* * *

_Three Days Later_

So much for that!

The area surrounding her was scorched and burning, and there was some sort of fake bush-looking thing Urahara had planted down here—it was nothing but a burnt skeleton now, crispy and black.

She had hoped this would go much more quickly, but things never worked out that way. Unfortunately, she also knew she was running out of time. For every day she spent down here, that much time was lost in preparation for the battle that they all knew was coming.

Word to move would come minutes before it was time to actually set the barrier up, so she had to be ready. Everything had to be in place.

This was getting ridiculous.

To her left Hidaruma was laid out on the sand, tongue lolling out. He was tired, she knew, but they had to get this right.

"Get up, shishi. C'mon."

He pushed up off of his paws and trotted over, shaking his head but soon taking his normal sword form.

She grabbed him up off of the ground, wiping off the dirt and sand that stuck to the metal.

"Do it."

Immediately he released, even without the normal phrase. They had done this too much to continually repeat the words right now. They were both way too tired.

If this one worked, though…

The sword grew in her hand, becoming almost a foot longer and at least five inches wider. There were six seals visible on the side of the blade, all dull—mostly resembling etching into the blade. Only the first three, though, seemed to have any depth to them. This was normal, par for the course.

"Dai-ichi Raimon: Kai!"

She swept her hand past the seal closest to the tip of the sword, and it lit up, the etching now surrounded in blue.

Lightning struck to her right; she wasn't concentrating too much on where it landed right now.

"Dai-ni Himon: Kai!"

She swept her hand past the second seal, and it glowed a bright orange, pulsing in tandem with the first seal.

Something in front of her burst into flame; yet again, she wasn't worried about where the seals were landing right now. She could worry about controlling their landing zones when she finally got all six open and staying open. Or once she got all six just freakin' open.

"Dai-san Tenkamon: Kai!"

She swept her hand past the third seal, and lightning struck to her left. A bush caught fire. The sigil on Hidaruma glowed a bright purple.

The third seal was in place.

"Sanmon no Akazora: Kai!"

A barrier immediately sprang up, connecting all three seals.

Hidaruma hovered in front of her as she let go of the sword with her right hand. Both hands moved gracefully, in tandem, flicking the seals around to form the shape she now knew they could take very easily. Soon, instead of the normal triangle that the first three seals formed naturally, she had a circle.

That was the easy part. The three seals, or gates, were essentially attacks. They were shikai formation attacks, nothing special in reality. Lightning, fire, tenka. Nothing unusual in the realm of elemental attacks, even when strengthened with the final shikai attack, Hibashira.

They were weak, mostly used to form a barrier. Kogasu was more deadly, in reality, and it was the first attack she had ever learned with Hidaruma. It was the norm.

But the other three…

Switching from three gates to six usually required bankai. The multi-dimensional barrier _was_ her bankai; the fire attacks were just for protection. With such weak attacks, something was needed to control the movement of her target. Hidaruma was balanced, but unimportant as far as zapakutou went. They knew that decades before she left.

But the barrier…

The last three seals were special, on different axes. They had no release forms, no attacks. They were shadows of the first three, really.

But bringing them out without going into bankai was hard, and the barrier unstable.

_Let's try this new idea out, shishi. Hope it works._

"Rokumon no Genshukusa," she said, and a wind grew around the barrier that she had already formed. She felt the release of her reiatsu as it tore into the ground near her but tried to ignore it.

She usually did not form the three-seal barrier before calling out the last three seals. It was ridiculous to do so, draining and time-consuming. But in opening the fourth and fifth seal, it had proved advantageous. The last seals were already looking to form a barrier, then, and she hadn't had a need for bankai. But the sixth…

"Dai-yon Raikagemon: Kai!"

She swept her hand past the fourth seal as it lit up, a deep blue mirroring the first seal. Above her, a seal formed. Her hand began to shake as she pulled it back into its original position.

"Dai-go Hokagemon: Kai!"

She swept her hand past the fifth seal as it lit up, a burning red mirroring the second seal. In the middle of the sky to the left, another seal formed, hanging in the air. It was half of the height of the one ominously formed above her head.

"Dai—Dai-roku—"

She felt her reiatsu fluctuate wildly as she tried to form the sixth seal. She could see its shadow on the ground to the right, but it wouldn't fully form.

_Not this time._

She swept her hand across the seal, hoping that she could activate it manually, but the seal stayed dormant.

_Hurry, Minako! Now!_

"Dai-roku…Okagemon," she forced out, but she could already feel the sweat beginning to drip down her forehead, her arms and legs weakening.

"Kai!" she screamed, once again swiping her hand across the seal on the blade. The seal glowed an ominous black momentarily, and she felt all the gates finally connect. There were tremoring lines forming between the last three seals as they tried to find the first three, and then they snapped.

And she flew backward as the barrier blew up.

The six seals were looking for connection points that were not there, and she couldn't support it manually anymore. It was just too much of a strain.

The explosive force behind it was ten times what she had been dealt up until now, and she felt bones crack as the concussive force hit her full on. It felt like a video of an atomic bomb, a rush of air and heat and very fast wind blowing outward and decimating everything in its path.

One of the many cliffs broke her backwards tumble, and Hidaruma was soon back in doggie form, trotting over to her.

His fur looked like he had stuck a claw in an electrical outlet.

She resisted the urge to laugh, sure she had broken a few ribs. She got up, slowly, using the dirt wall behind her for balance, and she stared down at the dog now beside her. Both of them were panting harshly, and while she was the only one bleeding, he looked pretty bad as well. She heard the hatch about 500 feet to the left and who knew how far above them open with a clunk, and they both just turned their heads tiredly to glare at the intruder. A striped hat could be seen as Urahara lowered his head through the opening, glancing around. When he finally spotted them he gave an upside-down wave.

"Oi, Minako-san, what was that?" he yelled, his placid, humorous tone annoying both of them.

"That was me, moron," she yelled back halfheartedly.

She saw a hand drop down as he scratched his head through the hat he always wore.

"That was a little larger than normal, ne? We felt it shake the floor up here!"

"That was the sixth seal, Urahara no baka!"

She saw his head disappear for a moment before feet replaced it, and she immediately realized he was coming down the giant ladder.

_Fuck._

She just collapsed against the dirt wall, and Hidaruma fell sideways onto the sand.

_Great._

There were two men visible on the ladder now, and both of them were blond. That didn't bode well for the rest of her day.

She closed her eyes, using the minutes it would take for them to reach her to rest and try to recuperate somewhat from the large amount of reishi it felt like she had lost.

She had opened the gate, finally, but the seal wouldn't stay solid. And she would obviously have to position and form them as they came out, which would be hard. Moving them into position at the same time she was trying to call them out—it already took too much to attempt!

_We've faced worse, my dear. Do you not remember bankai training?_

Of course she did. Months and months of nothing but blowing herself up as she tried to get the other three seals to even materialize. She would never forget how it felt. At one point she had broken every bone in her left arm, including the small ones in her hand and wrist.

_Then stop complaining. We didn't think we would get this far._

He was right, as usual. She hadn't thought they would even be able to get the seals out without bankai, and they had.

The problem was, when making this barrier, she wouldn't be able to stop and have a heart attack between the third and fourth seals. Bankai could be used to stabilize the barrier, but she had to get them all out first. Then she could writhe on the ground for a few minutes in pain so they could stabilize the stupid thing.

_Then we are almost done. Get it stable, make it hold long enough for a transformation._

_I know, shishi. I'm trying._

It was amazing, though. None of them had ever even thought to see how this new form would affect her barrier or its abilities. That had been very stupid of them, now that she thought about it. But hindsight was 20/20, wasn't that the old saying?

Someone kicked her foot, and she controlled the murderous urge that had risen in her. Everything hurt right now, even her toes.

"Ne, Minako-san?"

She cracked an eye open and glared at the idiot standing over her.

"Get up, dumbass. Let's see it."

_Will. Not. Kill. Will. Not._

She slowly rose, and Hidaruma growled before getting up himself.

They slowly wandered back to the spot they had designated as their own, and she almost laughed at the look on Urahara's face when he realized she had been murdering his bushes.

There were another two smoldering now.

_Ready, shishi?_

_Hell no._

She grinned.

_Let's make it pretty for them so we can collapse after this. _

"Ryouken Jigoku no Akazora: Kaze-ni!" she yelled, her voice hoarse from days of it.

He immediately released, and the sword-seal form was back.

"Dai-ichi Raimon: Kai!" she said, swiping her left hand across the first seal and delighting in the glow.

She heard the lightning strike to her right and, instead of letting the seal fall where it wanted, she maneuvered it so it would materialize in a bush. Urahara's little squeal made it worth it.

"Dai-ni Himon: Kai!"

Another swipe of her left hand, and the second seal glowed orange.

A small tree in front of her burst into flames, in the exact spot she had wanted the seal to fall, and she heard him squeal again, this time accompanied by Shinji's laughing.

"Dai-san Tenkamon: Kai!" she screamed, swiping her hand across the third seal and watching the purple flare into existence.

A small rock pinged into the sky as the seal materialized a little to her left.

She stepped backwards a few feet.

"Sanmon no Akazora: Kai!"

The barrier flashed into existence, uniting the three seals. Her hands flew again, tracing out a shape and dragging the lines into it, and the lines connecting the sigils bent into a circular shape in front of her.

She sighed, releasing a huge breath. The easy part was done.

_Ready to try this again?_

_Not really, onna, but we don't have a choice, do we?_

_Let's see how far we can get. Perhaps dropping them down will give them the connection they're looking for._

_It might work, but it will still be unstable. We don't have the power to channel into it outside of bankai._

She nodded grimly in her mind.

"Rokumon no Genshukusa," she said, and while there was no true reaction amongst the seals or the barrier, a wind flew around the three parties. She heard them take a few steps backward and grinned again. It would be worth the pain to have them get blown up with her.

"Dai-yon Raikagemon: Kai!"

She swiped her hand across the fourth seal and it glowed a deep blue. She could feel it begin to materialize somewhere above her but she brought her left hand up, literally dragging it downward. Soon it was drifting in front of her, fighting her all the way—however that was possible—and she saw the materialized seal land a few feet above the barrier already in place.

It was close enough right now.

"Dai-go Hokagemon: Kai!"

She swiped her hand across the fifth seal and watched it glow bright red, and she once again tried to drag the seal down to the others. This one, to her left, ended up about fifteen feet above the ground-level Sanmon barrier and a good seven feet above the fourth seal in front of her.

It was all she could manage. Her hand was shaking so heavily that any attempt at pulling it downward might mean it went higher if her hand shook too violently.

"Dai-roku—dai-roku—"

Once again her reiatsu was flaring wildly, and she could hear Hidaruma screaming at her in her mind to pull the seal down.

She could see it, a small shadow on the ground to her right, and she forced the words out.

"Dai-roku...Okagemon: Kai!"

She swiped her hand across the seal on the sword and it glowed black, and she felt the seal materialize on the ground, right on the Sanmon barrier line.

"T—ta—"

Her lips didn't even get to finish the first syllable of the six gate release word before it blew up, forcing all three of them backward.

Unfortunately, there was no cliff. She tumbled through the sand and came to a rough stop about a hundred feet back, and she watched as Hidaruma, once again, trotted up to her.

Not only was his fur still standing on end, it looked like he had a bald patch on his flank.

She snorted, then grimaced from the pain of her _definitely _broken ribs.

She couldn't see the assholes, but she didn't care. Practice was officially over for the day.

She let herself fall into the beauty that was unconsciousness.

* * *

This was probably the craziest group ever assembled in Urahara's little rooms, and that was saying something for the Urahara Shōten.

Urahara was, as always, seated at the table, bandages clearly visible on his face. He had hit a rock when he flew backward and had a deep scratch across both cheeks. Shinji was sitting in the corner, hood up and face hidden from those who had just come in. Even the Visored was a little worse for wear, although his clothing made it impossible to see. Yoruichi and Tessai were seated by Urahara and flanked by Ururu and Jinta.

Two cats were prowling the room, one with some form of headgear and one with an unusual flashing beacon on its collar.

But what made it decidedly odd was the fact that shinigami—two taichou, no less—were seated in front of them, as was one fuku-taichou. In the same room as a Visored. Both knew the other was there, but they seemed to be very good at ignoring the small, obviously unmentionable fact.

But facts were stubborn things.

It had created an unbelievable tension, but there was no other choice. They had to know when, and it was important that the shinigami know their plan would work as well as was possible.

"Yoruichi-san, you said you had some information for us," Ukitake-taichou said, his tone pleasant as always.

"I do, Ukitake. But I thought you might like to give me a little promise first."

He looked at her, perplexed and wary. She had been quite the prankster once upon a time.

"Such as?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

"You have to promise not to tell Yamamoto where she is. You can give him the information—as a matter of fact, you need to—but you can't tell him where to find her."

"So Soifon-san was right, then?" Kyouraku asked lazily, his sakkat hiding his eyes.

The former taichou just shrugged and smiled.

"Yare," Kyouraku breathed out, his lips stretching into a smile.

"Very well, Yoruichi-san," Ukitake-taichou finally said. "Now, what do you have to tell us?"

She looked at him, her eyes gleaming.

"She broke the sixth seal this morning."

Comprehension came quickly.

Still, Kyouraku was confused. She had already broken the sixth seal—it was her bankai. This wasn't vitally important.

"And?" he said, a different tone taking over his voice.

Yoruichi grinned evilly.

"Without bankai. And in a circle."

Both of their eyes widened comically.

They had both been informed—finally—of what Minako was supposed to do during the final battle. Kyouraku had originally considered it impossible, but apparently it wasn't. Perhaps Yama-jii knew his niece better than any of them thought.

"Where is she?" Nanao asked, worried about the fact that the woman was not in front of them.

"Resting," Yoruichi said, her right hand flicking through the air carelessly. "But she should be up soon, and then you can talk to her."

"How—is it even possible—" Ukitake-taichou asked, his words stuttered and choppy.

"Apparently," Shinji muttered darkly.

"It will probably take someone feeding her reishi to keep it stable, but it is possible. We'll have to figure that out," Yoruichi said, her delight in their disbelief obvious.

"But still, it's not—"

"Fucking shinigami, always thinkin' it ain't doable if they can't do it," he muttered, pulling his hood closer around his face.

Both Urahara and Yoruichi shot him a look, and, finally tired of the situation, he huffed and got up. Everyone watched as he retreated, his footsteps and the sound of the front door slamming incredibly loud in the sudden silence.

"Well," Urahara started, his voice pitched way too high, "I guess he won't be staying."

They all sweatdropped.

"Obviously," Yoruichi deadpanned.

"And the rest of you are ready for this?" Ukitake-taichou asked, his concern for everyone that would be involved in the final battle evident.

"As much as we can be, Ukitake-san," Urahara said, his eyes glittering in the shadow of his hat.

Jinta grabbed one of the passing cat's tails, and Tessai smacked him in the back of the head.

The shinigami stared at them.

Kyouraku turned to Ukitake. He wanted to stay, mainly so he could find out what exactly was going on, but someone needed to get the information back to Yama-jii as soon as possible. Ukitake, already knowing what he was going to ask, opened his mouth to volunteer but was cut off.

"I'm going to report this all back to Yama-jii. You'll stay and check on Minako-chan, eh, Ukitake?" he said lazily, but his eyes were visible and Ukitake got the silent message. They had been friends too long to not understand each other's nonverbal cues.

"Of course, Kyouraku, but if you want—"

"Yare, yare…" he said, rising slowly from the floor. Nanao was already up and moving, a hell butterfly floating around her.

"Just check on her for me, eh, Ukitake?"

He winked at his friend.

Ukitake-taichou nodded, his eyes wide. But evil thoughts were running through his head—he knew his friend too well, sometimes, and he could see the plot Shunsui was concocting.

They all watched as the two disappeared into a senkaimon, and then he turned back to the assembled group in front of him, suddenly nervous. He scratched the back of his head and gave a stilted laugh. A cat climbed into his lap and he looked down, surprised to see Kiri. She had some sort of hat on, with a conical necklace that obviously made it hard for her to get her head anywhere near her body.

_What have they done to the poor thing?_ he thought.

He sweatdropped.

* * *

She woke up suddenly inside her tent, Hidaruma laying heavy as a house across her legs—_stupid shishi_—and hearing voices approaching.

One was obviously Yoruichi. The other—well, there was no freakin' way. No way in hell.

The male with her was exclaiming some disbelief over the scorch marks all over the terrain, and she had a brief moment of elation and giddy evilness at the thought of Urahara's destroyed foliage.

She got up slowly, pushing Hidaruma off of her while also realizing someone had changed her—_please let it have been Yoruichi_—and moved to the flap of the tent.

Hidaruma, who had followed her lead, head-butted her legs and she moved forward.

It was who she thought it was.

_Fuck. Fuckity-fuck-fuck—_

_That's quite enough of that, onna. _

Then, he realized why she was cursing.

_Oh._ He grinned mischievously in her mind. _Oh. The pale one returns._

He sat down right outside the tent, his tail wagging like a chihuahua's.

_Should I allow you two some…alone time?_

He snickered in her mind, and she sighed.

_This should be fun._

She scrubbed her face with her hand, dismayed at the fact that the clothes Yoruichi had put on her had no sleeves to hide beneath.

_He follows you like a puppy dog, onna. How sweet._

_Shut it, shishi._

_You are the inu master. Lord of the dogs. Inu no Kami. Oh, the jokes could go on—_

_Shut. It._

They approached the small camp, Yoruichi smiling broadly at her.

"Please tell me you're the one who changed me," she said, her voice still rough from sleep.

"Of course. I wouldn't let either of those bozos do it."

_Thank the Kami._

_Indeed. I would have had to eat them. Something tells me blonde does not taste well._

She looked down at the dog, scowling.

"You have a visitor, Minako! You should be happy."

She shifted her scowl's focus to the woman standing in front of her.

"And if I didn't want visitors? Especially _shinigami _visitors?" she said gruffly. She made it sound as if shinigami was the worst epithet she could ever hurl at someone, and his resulting wince was somewhat satisfying. Although, part of her hated seeing it—she did have a tiny, tiny crush on the man, after all.

_Tiny, onna?_

"Too bad," Yoruichi said, her impishness evident.

She crossed her arms and stared at the man in front of her. He stared back, looking a little uneasy with the situation. The nervousness they both felt was acute and easily felt in the air. She had the feeling they were reenacting a scene that played out daily in junior high schools all around the world.

Yoruichi, always the shrewd one—there were way too many of those around nowadays—bowed out quickly.

"Well, I've got things to do. We've got to finish that armor soon. You can show him out, right?"

She scowled, but nodded.

Yoruichi took off, tossing a "Bye" behind her to the pale taichou.

"Ukitake-taichou," she said flatly.

"Minako-san," he said nervously.

He wasn't pale anymore, she noticed. That was definitely a blush stretching across his cheeks and nose.

That was Yoruichi's fault, too. Stupid woman. Stupid clothes.

"Are you here to yell at me?" she finally asked as she subtly jerked at the bottom of the tank top she wore, her curiosity winning out over her embarrassment. The clothes were skimpy, but they weren't that bad. Especially by human standards. By Yoruichi's standards, the tank top and shorts were practically virginal sleepwear.

"No, but you shouldn't have done that. I put my trust in you, and you broke it."

She felt a brief moment of guilt but it passed soon enough; Hidaruma's morality argument was starting to win her over.

She gestured to the tent.

"There isn't much, but at least you'll have somewhere to sit. C'mon."

He followed her inside, but had to stoop down to get through the low door and avoid bumping his head on the pole. By the time they were both inside his face had a very obvious red tint, and she realized—

_Moron._

_Shishi, you should warn me about that kind of thing._

It really wasn't her fault the shorts were, well, short.

She cleared her throat, hoping to clear the air somewhat and get them on a topic of conversation that was safe and bland. She gestured around the tent randomly.

"Sorry. It was about all that was available. And I'm not leaving this stupid area until I can do this properly."

"I'm not sure you should stay here. He has done something strange to your pets, Minako-san. I would not usually interfere, but…" he trailed off, looking nervous at the tick that had developed underneath her right eye.

She was angry now.

There was an uncomfortable silence. A new topic was needed, fast.

"Yoruichi-san said you have made a great deal of progress," he said, his eyes gleaming. It was like he was happy—proud of her—and he had no reason to be, at least that she could think of.

"There's been some," she admitted, "more than I could have ever achieved there."

She gestured toward the small mat across the tent near her small tea table, and he sat down, pulling his knees up to his chest as she took up her normal position on her futon. Hidaruma, always possessive, flopped down next to her, his fur brushing over the skin on her leg.

"Are you—are you well?"

She looked at the bandages all over her limbs; she looked like she had come out of a war zone.

"I blew myself up a few—twenty—times or so," she muttered, unhappy about the idea of letting anyone know how hard it had been.

His eyes widened.

"Oh," he said breathlessly.

"Are you here to try to take me back?" she said grumpily, her arms once again folded across her chest.

"No, Minako-san. I believe Genryuusai-sensei has given up on that. We were here at Yoruichi-san's invitation, actually. She said she had information for us, and, well, after she swore us to secrecy, said she would allow us to check on you."

She nodded, her face still fixed in a scowl.

"You—Minako-san—you are not in a good mood, are you?" he said nervously.

"I blew myself up," she muttered darkly.

_Yeah. He's a moron._

_Shishi…_

_Well, he is, _he said petulantly.

_You shouldn't say those things about him._

_Why? Because you find him attractive? _He snorted. _I told you, mate and get it over with. _

_You're hopeless, mutt._

"What is he saying?" he asked curiously.

She knew what he meant. He had obviously picked up on the fact that she was carrying on an alternate conversation with Hidaruma.

"You don't wanna know," she said, the scowl finally lifting a bit as she smirked.

"I don't?" he asked helplessly.

"Not really."

_I'll show him, if he wants. You still haven't let me bite him._

_Shishi, please._

The dog beside her snorted, loudly, and blew a large puff of air out of his snout.

_Oh, very well. Infuriating onna._

She glanced back over at him, and he was watching them with unconcealed curiosity. She huffed and slumped her shoulders, finally giving in.

"He wants to bite you," she finally said, sure he would drop the subject now.

His eyes widened again, this time to massive proportions. Then he fixed his own scowl upon the dog.

"That's not very nice at _all_."

They both smirked mentally at his reprimanding tone.

"He's not really a nice dog, especially when it comes to men," she said, the smirk finally showing on her face.

"He sees me as a threat," he said, as if a light bulb had finally clicked on.

"Pretty much. Most men are a threat in his eyes."

"Because of—what happened?"

She shook her head, pieces of her hair flying about her face. She could feel that part of it was burnt and frizzy near the end of the fringe that usually stayed loose, and mentally made a note to cut it soon, even if she would have to do it herself.

"Because I'm a female."

He looked confused for a moment, then the blush was back in full force.

"Ah."

He looked at the woman, slumped on the messy bedding next to the very large dog that was her guardian. He must have been crazy. Shunsui was even crazier to think the two of them could ever be—together.

Little did he know, she was having the same thought.

_Such a soft touch._

"Well, then, if you aren't here to yell at me, and you aren't here to arrest me…" she trailed off, obviously waiting for him to explain why he was sitting in her tent, looking uncomfortable.

"Checking up on you," he said, his cheerful attitude back in place. "At least, according to Kyouraku."

She nodded.

"I'm alive, obviously," she said dryly.

He sweatdropped.

_Crazy. I'm crazy._

Yet again, she was having the same thought.

* * *

A/N: The Japanese Lesson for this chapter:

_Hidaruma_: Mass of flames

_Ryōken-Jigoku no Akazora: Kaze-ni_! is Hellhound of the Red Sky, on the Wind! or something close. My Japanese is not perfect.

_Hibashira_: Pillar of Flames

_Kogasu_: Scorch

_Sanmon no Akazora_: 3 Gates of the Red Sky

_Dai-ichi Raimon:_ First Gate, Lightning

_Dai-ni Himon:_ Second Gate, Fire

_Dai-san Tenkamon:_ Third Gate, Fire caused by Lightning

_Rokumon no Genshukusa:_ 6 Gates of Awesome Dignity

_Dai-yon Raikagemon:_ Fourth Gate Release, Lightning Shadow of the 1st Gate

_Dai-go Hokagemon:_ Fifth Gate Release, Fire Shadow of the 2nd Gate

_Dai-roku Okagemon:_ Sixth Gate Release, Great Shadow Gate

_Taikasei:_ Fireproof

_Kai: _Release


	17. Chapter 16

A/N: As usual, all the important information is lurking in the notes of the first two parts.

I'm uploading the two scheduled chapters today, but I'm also planning on uploading another Monday (Monday's will be two chapters for AFF, actually). Due to the fact that there is an extra, shall we say, mature chapter that cannot be posted everywhere, I'm going to get them out early so that the next update keeps to the normal two chapter schedule. When I do update Monday I'll make sure to tell you how to get to the missing Chapter 18, for those who are old enough and want to read it.

Enjoy!

* * *

"The Noble Sort"

* * *

He had left, finally, a little over a half an hour ago.

He had sat in her tent for almost an hour, making both of them uncomfortable. The tenuous friendly camaraderie they had gained in Seireitei was destroyed with her being on her own turf. She had the upper hand and was back to normal.

Mostly.

Well, as normal as she ever got. There were so many "Minako's" at this point she wasn't sure who she really was, although she had an idea that the real her involved bits and pieces of each of the personalities she had taken on.

Her heart was still pounding a little faster than normal, and she could have sworn she was blushing at some point during that weird little visit. It was ridiculous for someone over five-hundred years old to be acting like this.

She buried her face in her pillow, sighing loudly.

_Go ahead and kill me, shishi._

_Put you out of your misery?_

She turned her head and saw the dog's giant head raise, his eyes shining in hopefulness.

_Sure. Go all out._

Instead of a bite, or even a good tackle, she ended up with a large tongue laving the side of her head, her ear, and part of her hair. She swiped at the area quickly, disgusted when her hand came back in front of her covered in dog drool.

_Hella nasty, you scoundrel._

_I aim to please._

She could hear the smugness in his voice, and smacked the back of his head. He just snorted and lay back down beside her, sidled up to her. He was a full-body-heater, and it felt good.

She turned on the small futon, bringing her arm up and over the black furry mess. He was always so warm and comfortable, much like a giant teddy bear. She would never, under any circumstances, call him such, though.

But after the past week, she would admit to a sense of wonder at how long she was able to resist calling him out of the stupid sword form. It had been almost a month before they had found her. Was she really that—that depressive usually?

She would never do it again, that was for sure. Not only did he deserve time out, she enjoyed it.

_What has you moping, onna?_

She glared at him.

_I'm not moping, shishi._

_Oh, really?_

The doubt was obvious.

_How did I manage to fall for the one person who is: 1, nothing like me, 2, way too soft for me, and 3, way too moral for me. Oh, and 4, my uncle's former student, which he's very close to._

He snickered in her mind.

_You have a love for things you aren't supposed to do. You figure it out._

She resisted the urge to smack him again, instead scrubbing her hand over her face.

_I haven't even kissed the man and I'm head over heels._

They both snorted in her mind this time, and both were mocking her pathetic-ness. There was really no other way to describe the situation she found herself in. She knew it, he knew it, and she was sure there would be plenty of fodder for his jokes from here on out because of it.

_You poor onna. _

_You just want to bite him. How am I ever supposed to get close enough to kiss him then?_

The black dog rose up on the futon, his eyes locking onto hers. He looked gravely affronted; it was most likely an act, she knew.

_I would never!_

_Oh?_

_No._ He smiled. _I would bite him after. _

She sweatdropped at the amount of insane pride evident in his tone.

"You need therapy, shishi."

He snorted, the air blowing her hair around as he settled back into position, nudging himself under one of her arms.

_No, you need therapy. I'm just a reflection of you. Imagine how crazy the whole is._

She did smack him, that time.

_Anyway, shishi, how do you think—_

"Eh, Minako-san, you in there?"

She closed her eyes, sighing. It would figure.

"Yes, Urahara! Come on in."

He stepped into the small tent, somehow managing to keep his strange presence going even though he was stooped over to avoid bumping his head. He looked ridiculous, although still handsome.

She would give Yoruichi that much—the man was handsome. He had to be killer to look at when they were in bed. And he was smart enough for it to probably be interesting. Even if he was seriously imbalanced.

_There are some things, Minako, that even you should not contemplate. I don't want the mental image._

She snorted mentally.

_And_ he was covered in bandages—at least, his face was. It made her stomach jump in delight.

"How are you feeling, U-ra-ha-ra?" she asked mischievously.

"Fine, fine, Minako! Ah," he scratched his head, glancing around, "well, my head hurts. But I'll be fine."

His hat rose a scant inch, and his eyes glowed in the dark shadow of the brim. She felt her body stiffen as she recognized the change his personality was about to undergo—it still freaked her out when he did it.

"You could have warned us, though."

She shrugged, grinning.

"Payback," she said simply.

"Nani? For what?"

"Don't act shocked," she said, pushing herself into a sitting position on the futon despite Hidaruma's rumbling at the end of their cuddle session, "I've heard about my kittens. If they're hurt…"

"Perfectly fine! Just testing out some equipment for me."

She nodded slowly, not believing him.

"Tessai will tell me the truth later, you realize."

He just nodded quickly, like a hyperactive bobble head.

"And the bushes, Minako? You destroyed the lovely environment I have created!"

"I felt like it," she said, an impishness reminiscent of Yoruichi coming out in her.

He sweatdropped.

_Can I bite him?_

She briefly considered answering in the affirmative but fought down the evil impulse. They were coming more and more often, now that she was in the human world. She was getting back to normal, then. That sweetness that had been coming out in Seireitei was finally melting back into the periphery.

"Ne, Minako," he said, moving to sit on the small mat she had set up by her little tea table, "I have obviously not come all the way down here to talk about your pets. Or my bushes."

"Did you come down here so shishi could bite you? He's asked about it a few times now."

He giggled briefly and shook his head. She could have sworn, though, there was an evil, intent-laden glare directed at the dog beside her in there, too.

"Well, then? What's up?"

He looked at her, his face serious, and she felt an ominous tension come over her body. Whenever he got serious they were all in trouble.

Especially if he was giving out information, something he seemed to be doing regularly.

"You have two days. We have just been informed."

She felt her stomach drop. Two days.

Two days to figure out how to get all the seals ground level, in the correct formation, and stable long enough for her to go into bankai.

_Fuck._

"A little under, actually. They want everything set up that morning, and then you will be transported to Seireitei, where you will wait for news from a communicator. Your uncle's fuku-taichou will notify you in time to get the barrier up."

_Fuck._

"We don't want the barrier going up too early; otherwise, it will have been for nothing."

He stared at her, their eyes meeting.

"So," he said, snapping his fan open, "you have tomorrow, really."

_How does he look so serene telling you this shit, onna?_

_It's a mystery of the universe, shishi. None of us know how he ticks._

"Tomorrow."

"Indeed, Minako."

"I have one day."

"Hai," he said, his tone too happy-go-lucky for her own tastes.

_Fuck._

* * *

The sixth seal, now fully materialized and trying to form a barrier, flickered out of existence and the entire thing snapped and bowed like a breaking ship, bursting outward with a rush of force. The barrier lines even looked like rigging snapping.

She felt herself once again tumbling through the sand before coming to a stop near a small boulder, except she had actually managed to hold on to her zanpakutou this time, a rarity. She must have clenched her hands so tightly when she felt it give way that she hadn't dropped the damn thing for once.

Which was a good thing, really.

But their latest idea hadn't worked either. All she had to show for it were new wounds mingling with the old ones, which had ripped open the last time she had managed to blow herself up.

"Goddamnit, shishi, this is _useless_!" she screamed, flinging the sword across the open area in front of her.

She could him shrieking profanities at the treatment in her mind but ignored it.

"If we can't do this, we'll have to use bankai _before_, which means we can't control all the variables. We _have _to _get_ this!"

She heard the blade make a clanking noise as it finally collided with something, but she didn't feel the slightest bit of remorse right now. It wasn't working, still, and they had too little time to be worrying about this.

She dropped like sack of potatoes to the sand beneath her, bones and joints creaking in protest. Her hands came up to cover her face, and she sighed.

The tears were gonna start soon, and then she would feel like a total moron. This was all ridiculous.

She could hear him barking at her, now, and running towards her.

It was almost four in the morning, which meant they had around twenty-four hours to finish this, rest, and be ready to go for the, as shishi was now calling it, uber-awesome-battle-of-doom. She knew that if they made it out alive he would never get to watch television ever again, that was for sure.

He was just trying to lighten the mood, she knew. She just had no appreciation for it at the moment.

They had been up too long, expended too much energy. It was making them both jumpy and reactive—not a good thing, ever.

_You have to get them level. Perfectly level. Then they can connect._

She raised her head up out of her hands and gave him a look of consternation.

_Duh!_

The look didn't stay long, though. His fur was mottled and matted, with patches missing, and he was definitely looking as bad as she was. It made her feel somewhat better; if he had come out of it looking as pretty and perfect as normal, she might have ripped his ears off.

Instead, she felt some pity for how bad he looked. Her poor puppy…

He snorted before turning in place, pushing an area of sand down until it was perfectly level. Finally he lay down in his makeshift bedding.

_Do not snap at me. I am tired, too. And you throw me one more time—_

_What will you do, huh?_

_I'll bite __**you**__, onna._

There was a dark gleam in his eyes, and she suddenly had the epiphany that he might actually bite her, even if it wasn't hard enough to hurt.

_The first five are now easy to pull out. It is the sixth—the final seal—that is the problem. You must stop letting the pain get to you and call it out quickly so you can get the release done. It's the only way. _

_Easier said than done, shishi._

_I know. I feel it too, remember?_

She looked down at the ground, making an attempt to count the numerous sand grains. It would take her mind off the failure of everything they had attempted so far, and hopefully let her think of something that would work.

Five days. It was essentially what they had been given.

It had taken months to get bankai, and then years to fully understand how to utilize the barrier. But she had five days to fully rework the thing. Oji-san was asking for a miracle she couldn't seem to give him.

_You can, you're just not trying._

_What?_

_You heard me. Put some backbone into it, onna._

_I have been. I'm blowing myself up on a regular basis, shishi._

_There is more there, you are just afraid to actually use it. _

She looked at him sideways.

_And if I end up losing control? If we go into that form on accident now we're useless for the main event. You and both know that. I can't risk it._

_I can keep it at bay. Hold it back long enough for you to get it right. _

_You think you can. What if you're wrong?_

_I'm not._

She looked at him then, finally asking the question that had been in the back of her mind all along.

_What if Yoruichi is right? What if someone will have to be able to—_

_I don't trust any of them that far, Minako. You should not either. We do this alone or not at all._

She sighed. He was right. They needed to do this alone or it wouldn't work.

She stood, her vision blurring momentarily as her tiredness overcame her willpower. It was getting harder to attempt, but she wasn't leaving until it was done. Once they figured it out they could go home and rest up. She was finally standing, the vertigo passing after the landscape did a strange slide in her vision.

"Back in form, doggie."

He snorted at her but did as she asked, and she picked up the blade from the ground.

She pulled the sword out of the sheath, securing the black sheath on her belt, and began again.

* * *

It was past lunchtime before they succeeded.

Hidaruma had been keeping a mental tally of the many times they had pulled out the sixth seal—somewhere around 30 at this point—and neither of them had expected to get it right this time.

But somehow, they managed it. Finally.

They had been working at full power to stabilize the barrier, something she had initially feared attempting due to the fact that it was a main trigger for their loss of control. But he had been able to ward off any sign of it by keeping them steady and their heartbeat below 150 beats per minute. It was still high, but that was expected with what they were attempting.

Too much adrenaline.

But shishi was able to hold it back, which meant she had just enough time to get the release word out. Once they had gotten that far, it became almost too easy.

The barrier snapped into place, and just like that, they were done. Once the connections were made, the barrier stopped fighting them. It just sat there, finally in the—somewhat lopsided—shape they were trying for.

After allowing the barrier to collapse—the important thing being that she had allowed its collapse after the release word was said—she jumped in glee and was caught in the backlash of the barrier's explosion. She had to remember to mentally control that last part—it was a learning process. She blew herself up, but it was worth it.

They had finally managed to form the full barrier. It wasn't the best, and it wasn't what anyone would call truly _stable, _but it would hold long enough for them to do what they had to do when the time came. It was all that mattered at this point.

Now, if they could be sure it was able to enlarge…but that wasn't really needed. If she could mark where the seals would need to form, it would be alright. She wouldn't have to manually maneuver their positions at all. Or she could manually set it after going into bankai. It didn't matter.

Once again her rest in the sand was interrupted by the sound of the hatch opening, although there was no head poking through. She only saw Yoruichi's legs as she began the descent into the Urahara-Underworld. The dark woman sped over to her resting spot as soon as she dropped to the ground, not wasting any time at all.

"What the hell was that?"

She looked up at her, grinning.

"The full barrier."

Yoruishi stopped a foot away, shock on her face.

"Are you serious?"

Her words were hopeful, although there was a definite measure of doubt there.

"Sure. It took a little modification, but it's done."

Yoruichi gave her a look, one she recognized from the time the woman had been a taichou. It had frequently been used to get information out of her subordinates.

It wasn't gonna work.

"Help me up."

She reached a hand up and Yoruichi grabbed it quickly, jerking her up out of the sand. They stood there, side by side, surveying the destruction that had been wrought by the multitude of explosions, one woman as beautiful as ever and one looking like a refugee from a war zone.

"Think it's good enough? I've got enough in me for one more…"

Yoruich turned toward her and grinned.

"It's perfect. It'll take him weeks to get it back to normal."

They both smirked, evilly.

"So what now?" Yoruichi asked her, foot kicking at the sand.

She closed her eyes. They were both pretty sure they weren't living through the next day, even if they had been trying to ignore it. They had been prepared for that eventuality for years, but now that it was here, it felt like the time had flown.

Yoruichi would most likely be spending the night with her boy toy, but Minako's plans were a little less social.

"Hopefully some rest. And a very long bath." She gave her friend a small smile. "And a night in my own bed. Not that I don't appreciate Ururu's thoughtfulness, but I want something other than a futon. Badly."

"And—" she stopped, glancing at her friend for just a minute before turning back to the scene of devastation in front of them, "perhaps a visit or two. I have just enough time left to wreak some havoc before I go."

Yoruichi just laughed.

* * *

She had accomplished many of her goals on the "Last Day of My Life" list. She had taken a very long, very hot bath at a public spa down from her apartment. An hour of soaking in the hot water had relaxed her to the point of feeling like jelly. She made a quick stop by her favorite sushi place, also located in her own neighborhood, and picked up her favorites. It was eaten quickly, her body craving nourishment after the last few days, but the enjoyment was still there.

Finally she headed home about four that afternoon. She cut her hair, changed clothes, took care of her phone calls, voicemails, e-mails, and the electronic correspondence that had to be completed before tomorrow—there were actually quite a few shinigami that hid in the human world, many of whom were waiting for the chance to sneak out of hiding and watch the fight.

They would be support in certain instances, although they would most likely stay hidden from prying eyes. Four of them, somewhat close to her, were going to be in Karakura the next morning, ready to help place markers of some sort for her seals if she needed it. She was truly appreciative of their help, although she knew they wouldn't deny it if she asked for it. They had been the only exiles she had ever placed. Just about everyone went to Urahara, but from there they were usually sent to other exiles or runaways that would help them find jobs and places to live. These had been her children on this little underground system and they were fully prepared to help her, even if it meant allowing shinigami to see them.

After contacting Akane with all the small details—she would be able to disseminate the information—she contemplated finally getting some rest. Her body was worn out, she knew, but the adrenaline and anticipation gearing her up for the fight the next day wouldn't allow her to sleep. Plus, there were other things she felt she needed to take care of, just in case this was her last day alive.

She grabbed Hidaruma and stuck the sword through the belt in her jeans, hooking the hilt on the black leather. She grabbed keys, her cell phone, and her small wallet, all she really needed right now, and headed out.

There were just too many things to do to sleep right now.

Thankfully she was able to grab a taxi fairly quickly, and traffic, for once, didn't interfere with her trip. They made it across town in less than an hour, which was unusual for six in the evening in Karakura. She paid the fare—tipping generously—and stood on the sidewalk, staring up at the building in front of her. In the purple light of early night she could see a light on in the kitchen window, but she didn't move to the building's entrance.

_You sure about this, onna?_

_It has to be handled, shishi. You know that._

She sighed, running her hand through her newly-cut hair.

She didn't know exactly what she would say, but it had to be done. Just in case.

She glanced both ways down the street, seeing no cars headed towards her, and started across the road.

* * *

A/N: Nothing here that isn't explained in the previous chapter. Just remember, there's an extra chapter Monday.

And R & R, please! It makes my day! (And a very nice shout-out to Wendy over on AFF; the e-mail has totally helped restore the muses!)


	18. Chapter 17

A/N: As usual, all the important information is lurking in the notes of the first two parts. This is the night before the battle, part 1 (part 2 is, um, restricted and only posted on AFF). We'll get to see some of what's going on in the Seireitei before the final conflict with Aizen. Anyone that wants to read the sexy chapter, just hit my profile and use the link to my AFF profile. You might have to go to the bottom and click "see other stories by this author," but it will get you there. I just don't want to chance it here and get kicked off.

And something I've noticed and will hopefully get to go back and fix—Kyouraku has had four fuku-taichou in this story. I noticed at one point I said Minako was his second, but I meant the second he had lost, not his second total. There was most likely one before Lisa that we haven't seen. I apologize. All I can say is that my meaning is clear in my head but doesn't always translate into the proper words. That and I'm inventing histories that Kubo hasn't given us and it can be hard to do with guys like him that have obviously been around a looooong time.

And it's almost November, people! NaNoWriMo! All you writers out there, get involved! It's tons of fun and this year we're getting a free printed copy of whatever we write if we meet the 50,000 word goal. I wasn't sure about joining this year, but that cinched it.(For those of you who don't know what the hell I'm talking about, it's NationalNovelWritingMonth. Na-No-Wri-Mo. You write a novel in one month. You can't start until Nov. 1st and you have to have 50,000 words by midnight November 30th. This is harder than it sounds.)

As always, R & R. I'd especially enjoy some constructive criticism considering I'll be publishing whatever I write in NaNoWriMo this year.

Now we begin this chapter with a blast from the past. Hope you guys paid attention to her conversation with Isane...

* * *

"The Noble Sort"

* * *

The door opened slowly, grey hair being the first thing she saw in the now-visible space between the door and the doorway.

It almost took her breath away.

For a man reaching fifty-six next year, he still looked pretty good. He was still fit, not nearly as wrinkled as some of the men she had seen boasting about being the same age, and his hair, while graying, was distinguished on him instead of aging. He reminded her of the hot professors many of the local university students were always giggling about in the restaurant.

She smiled softly, and his eyes widened in shock and recognition.

"Minako?"

He let out a funny little laugh but opened the door, gesturing her in. She dipped her head toward him and stepped in, grateful he was going to allow her some privacy to explain everything. He gestured again, this time to the plush sectional sofa in the middle of the very large living room, and she moved to sit down. He sat close but not near—a distinction he had learned early on, thankfully.

"I can't believe—what are you doing here?"

She smiled and dropped her head, her eyes closing. It had been so long since she had seen him in person, at least six years. They had talked, yes, and e-mailed, but they had kept their distance for years.

"I needed to talk to you. I'm glad you haven't moved."

He nodded, his hands coming together and clasping between his knees. She could tell he still had calluses in just the right places—still practicing kendo, obviously.

"I just—I really wasn't sure I would ever see you again."

She opened her eyes and looked at him, really looked at him.

"I'm not…intruding, I hope?"

"Of course not!" he exclaimed, a bit of amusement in his voice. So he was still a bachelor, then. At least there would be no jealous wife asking who the young woman was. "You look—great, Minako. Beautiful." He grinned at her. "I thought I told you to quit with the plastic surgery?"

She giggled.

"A girl has to keep herself looking good."

"You look like you haven't aged a day," he said, the awe and appreciation clear in his voice.

_I haven't. You just don't know it._

Their eyes locked and they stared at each other, hard, for a long moment. She could feel old emotions racing through the connection, traces of lust and what might have been love at some point. Soon, though, she cleared her throat, hoping to break the sudden tension the emotions had evoked.

"I, ah, have something I need to give you, really," she said hesitantly, pulling a small box out of her coat pocket. "I know—I know you said not to, but I _have_ to."

She placed the small black velvet box on his table, glaringly out of place amongst the normal possessions. It drew his attention like a magnet, and she could almost feel the shift in the atmosphere, the change in his posture as he slumped a little on the couch.

"You shouldn't have," he muttered, his jovial mood gone now, "you really shouldn't have."

"I know, but with everything that's going on, I have to."

"That's not how it works." She saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. "It's bad luck, you know."

His eyes were still drawn to the box, even though he had tried to turn his body away from it slightly.

She hated this. She hated that, almost fifteen years after everything had happened, she still had this pull over him. It wasn't right. And she definitely could not go into what would most likely be a mortal battle with this unresolved issue lingering. At one time, it had been a chance. Something she could dangle in front of herself to challenge her to find that future, to reach for something more than a half-assed existence. But now…

"I have to, though."

He looked up at her, finally.

"Why?" he said, his voice low.

"Because there are things," she choked on the words, forcing them out, "things—going on. Most likely, you won't hear from me again."

His head snapped up and he glared at her.

"Are you in trouble? Do you need my help? Minako, there's no one in this city I can't—"

"No. You can't help me with this. _Seriously_," she said, knowing he would protest. "You can't. This is so beyond the realm of your—dealings—you just can't. But chances are, I won't be able to see you again, and I can't leave this like…this."

"Still no hope, then?" he asked wistfully, as if he had always known the answer but hoped to have to never ask the question.

"No hope," she said quietly, despair and guilt rising inside her. She wasn't just talking about their failed relationship anymore.

He was truly a good man, deep down, and she had always kept it to give him hope—to give herself hope. But there wasn't any left to give. And he wasn't—he wasn't her dream anymore.

"_Minako_."

He leaned over and picked up the box, flipping it open and staring at the beautiful diamond inside. She knew, she always knew, that he had hoped she would wear it one day, even if he was sixty when it finally happened. He had been a confirmed bachelor when she met him and he had stayed that way. As far as she knew, she was the only one he had ever offered to change that for.

"I'm sorry, Matsu."

He looked at her, his eyes shining.

"Why? We were good, once, and we've been good friends." He snorted elegantly. "It's the height of what I usually hope for."

But not with her; they both knew it. She reached over a gave his hand a gentle squeeze before rising from the couch, moving to make her way out of his apartment and most likely his life.

"Minako?"

She stopped, but she didn't turn around.

"Is he worth it?"

She snorted.

"You assume it's a man," she said dryly, still not looking at him.

"There's a man _involved_, I know that," he muttered.

She turned slightly, looking over her shoulder at the man that she had once been sure she loved, and sighed deeply. She still loved him on some level, but it had never been near enough. Never what she really wanted. Finally, she walked over toward him and gently kissed the top of his head.

"You always knew me way too well."

He chuckled—a dry, self-deprecating laugh if she had ever heard one—and gave her waist a small squeeze with his unoccupied hand.

"Tell him to treat you right, or I'll come looking for him," he said, the dark tone he was known for in his younger days present in his voice. It was a hint of the man he once was, the criminal that had drawn her notice in the eighties.

She nodded, ruffled his hair, and silently exited the luxurious apartment.

* * *

Night had fallen at least two hours ago, but Nanao couldn't bring herself to retire to her rooms and sit about, waiting for sleep to come. To be honest, she couldn't fathom sleep at this point.

The most likely scenario for the next day was that most of them died. If it were true, then she couldn't bring herself to waste the few precious hours she had left on sleep. While she knew she needed it—you never went into battle without being rested if you could help it—other things seemed more important.

She stepped out onto the wooden planks that rounded the division's courtyard, expecting to hear sounds of revelry, even some laughter from her taichou's rooms. Instead, everything was silent. Not even crickets could be heard, considering the temperature and the frost beginning to form on the grass. She cocked her head, listening intently to the silence emanating from his rooms. That was unusual. She knew Ukitake-taichou had been over just an hour ago; usually they were still drinking at this time of night.

Obviously, he wasn't here.

Her footsteps were soft and slow, barely a brush of sound against the night, and she stopped to lean against the railing of the porch right in front of his door. Not a sound.

_Wait_.

There was sound, it just wasn't very loud. A swish of fabric, the scraping of a page turning.

She would give anything right now to hear those noises for the rest of her life. She knew tomorrow could be her end, but it could also be his end. He would be right at the front, right in the face of the Arrancar that had not yet been defeated. She could see it, in her mind's eye—frightening. The idea of him no longer being here, all because of Aizen…

Part of her screamed that it was her duty to protect her taichou; part of her knew he wouldn't appreciate her protectiveness.

But those sounds—they were life. As long as she heard the clinking of a sake cup, the scratchy noise accompanied with a page being turned, she knew he was alive and in this world. It gave her something of him not to just feel, but to hear.

She glanced at the large moon in the sky. Not quite full, but not just a sliver of light, either. Just enough silver to bring back a memory of meeting him in this courtyard when she was just a child and him the larger than life leader she would willingly die for. She never could have predicted it, although she should have seen it coming. He had always left her in awe, left her craving the next moment she would spend with him. Even when he was driving her insane, she wouldn't trade him for anything in the world.

_Footsteps._

They were heavy, undoubtedly masculine, and she closed her eyes against the intrusion and sighed. In her dreams, it had never come to this. It never happened _like this._ She wasn't sure if she wanted to let it happen this way.

Maybe the choice wasn't hers to make, though.

The door sliding open was jarring in the serenity of the night, but she welcomed his intrusion when she felt the warmth he gave off heat her back as his arm slipped around her waist, pulling her even closer, towards him, into him. As if she didn't gravitate toward his presence already.

"It does no good to worry, Nanao-chan," he murmured against her hair.

She felt a shiver down her spine but said nothing.

He surrounded her form with his own and began to shuffle backward, a graceful movement she could have never pulled off. She was compliant, though, thoughts of what the sunrise might bring finally taking all the fight out of her. As he moved her backwards and into his rooms, she softly shut the was already tugging softly at the collar of her kimono, his fingers trailing fire across her skin as he went.

At least, no matter what happened the next day, she would have her one night.

Sometimes, there really wasn't anything left to say.

* * *

The gate had been easier to organize than she had ever imagined. A quiet word to Yoruichi and she had one open and waiting, Urahara just staring at her. He most likely assumed she was going through early, going to see her uncle and wait on everything to begin.

He was wrong.

Yoruichi, though, she was smart. Even if she didn't know who Minako was going to see, she knew this gate had little to do with an early arrival for battle. She might visit her uncle, yes, but there was someone else involved. Knowing Yoruichi, the black woman knew exactly who Minako was going to see.

She gave each of them a jaunty little wave, acting as if the weight of tomorrow's battle wasn't truly pulling her down, and stepped through the gate.

There were people to see. There was no way she would let what would most likely be the last night of her life flit past without at least making a few things plain.

* * *

The words on the documents in front of him were blurring and bleeding together.

He knew he needed rest, that the lukewarm amber tea positioned far enough away on the desk that he didn't risk the paperwork couldn't keep him awake and alert long enough to finish this last stack, but he tried. Like many of his soldiers, he didn't want to waste too much of this night on sleep.

He sighed, rubbing his forehead and fighting back a yawn. He was definitely too old for this now.

He opened his eyes fully, blinking to remove the blurring, and his vision was caught on one of the pictures piled beneath his desk lamp. Minako and Arisu, smiling, some sort of human gathering going on around them.

Had he really failed everyone so tremendously? His family splintered, traitors threatening to bring them down, corruption in Central, disloyalty all around…was he this bad of a leader?

A wrinkled hand slowly approached the photo, tracing the ebony hair of his niece visible in front of the strange electronics in the background.

Hikaru had taken some of them, her old eyes sparkling as she saw the two women laughing and smiling in the photos, and she had framed them. Placed them all over his home. There had been a token resistance, of course, but nothing serious. He wasn't too worried about someone seeing pictures of his niece around his home, even if they knew she had fled Seireitei. It was his right, and it wouldn't matter in the long run.

He knew his fate.

The next day would undoubtedly bring his death, the end of this existence he had found in the afterlife. It didn't bother him, although he wouldn't mind one last chance to speak to her, the child he had never been able to have himself.

He had lived too long as it was.

He could barely remember his human life. There was a glimpse of memory, a feather against the back of his brain every once in a while. And then his life here: he could see his brother, his long-dead sisters; he could see a brilliant blue coast he must have visited at some point when he wasn't too old to travel to the human world himself. But with age everything was fading; he didn't even have memories of his early years here, only knew that he had woken up in the mountains with his siblings and they had made a name for themselves.

Few knew he wasn't born into Seireitei but brought here by an early death.

He was so old history did not remember his time in the human world and Seireitei saw him as the beginning of an era of history. When you got to be so old you could not remember your age, it was time for it to be over. When you were the only one left, you were ready to go.

He propped the photo up against his lamp, took a sip of his now-cold tea, and continued on. It wasn't even midnight, yet, and some of this could still be completed before he forced himself to rest for tomorrow.

He allowed himself to continue a little more lightheartedly, forcing himself to remember all those younger than himself he was fighting for.

Even with his frequent glances toward the picture highlighted by the soft light of the lamp and sitting at the front of his consciousness, he never saw the shadow that played upon his window before flicking outward, joining with the darkness of the night.

* * *

Her uncle would be fine, that much was obvious.

She would have loved to stop in and say—something, who knew what. But he was working diligently, even though he had to be in the same state she was in, knowing tomorrow probably brought death.

Some closure would be nice, but she felt they had ended on a good note so far, even if everything that needed to be said hadn't been voiced. Sometimes it was just understood. She forgave him, understood him, and he was finally past what she had done.

It was enough.

She quickly, but quietly, stepped back into the shadow of the large tree outside his study, silently wishing him a good night of rest. He would need it to face Aizen the next day, and for once she was thankful she wasn't going to be on the front line. Seeing him up close would be too much.

From here she had to head south, through at least a quarter of Seireitei. She knew that he had been to the Eighth earlier, drinking and visiting with his oldest friend. But she could tell he wasn't there now; there was someone in her former taichou's rooms but it definitely wasn't a male he had for company.

She grinned in the silvery moonlight.

_Good for you, Nanao._

She was truly happy for her young friend. The young woman had apparently learned the first rule of battle: never leave anything left undone. You never knew if you would come out alive and get another chance.

She flitted across the tops of buildings and through trees at a breakneck pace, almost in disbelief that no one had stopped her yet. They were all either spending their last night with loved ones or no longer worried about her considering her uncle's almost nonexistent search for her after her latest disappearance.

She finally saw the buildings of the thirteenth approaching in the distance, and she smiled with a genuine joy she hadn't felt in decades. It might be wrong, and he might not welcome her intrusion, but she had to do this.

The wall was easy to pass over, and she finally came to a stop in a frosty courtyard. The door to his quarters—she had been here so many times when she was fuku-taichou of the eighth—was across the grassy area from her.

She was thankful she had the foresight to land far from it.

It took a few minutes to regain her breath, and he would have heard her exhalations if she had been even thirty feet closer. He was taichou for a reason, something she knew many here forgot due to his innate kindness—his childish demeanor hid the inner soldier, she knew. She had never made the mistake of truly forgetting exactly how powerful he was.

There were no lights coming through the windows, and as she slowly crept forward, she couldn't hear anything either. He was most likely—no. Not asleep. She could barely hear it, but he wasn't breathing the shallow breaths of the sleeping. He was close to the floor, yes, most likely on a futon, but he wasn't asleep. She prayed to whatever deity might be watching over her that the crinkling from the frozen grass wouldn't alert him and crept even closer. She was finally close enough to be able to take a small step and be on the wooden planks that surrounded the building.

_One foot at a time._

She could hear Hidaruma in her mind, huffing about her wariness, but now that she was here her nerves were flaring, igniting along her skin and spine. She could have read this completely wrong—not that it would matter, considering what awaited them the next day—and be rejected.

_Not if he has any sense, onna._

She smiled again, softly. It would have been uncomfortable for anyone that knew her.

_Could you, um, you know, go away? If this goes the way I want, I don't want you involved._

He snorted.

_Believe me, onna, I have no wish to be involved in your sexual depravity, although you act like I won't know what is going on anyway._

She just knew she was blushing now.

_When I am proven correct, as I always am, I will give you the privacy you desire. _He huffed. _Stupid human etiquette._

_Oh?_

_I'll even leave the room. Perhaps I can find something to snack on while you—_she felt him cough in her mind—_do what you need to do, as such._

She grinned at the sudden and unusual reticence he was showing.

_Thanks._

_Don't mention it. Really. You're making this into too big of a deal._

As she stepped up to the sliding door blocking her from the man she had come to see, she felt the weight of Hidaruma leave her belt. She quickly glanced behind her, not surprised to see the black form of her zanpakutou spirit on the grass near the pond.

_Early, aren't you?_ She asked wryly.

He just huffed, a large breath out of his nostrils and forming a cloud of white sparkling air in front of him.

She slowly, very gently, slid the door to the left.

Their eyes immediately met.

She slid the door closed behind her, barely entering the room. She could feel the slide of the door against her back, the soft, sanded wood not catching on her clothing but rubbing against it.

To be honest, the nerves were starting to get the best of her; she wasn't sure if she could really bring herself to approach him.

Finally she gathered her courage and pushed herself a few steps forward, toward the now-sitting man on the futon to her left. She cleared her throat—it was loud in the silence of the night—and balled her hands up at her sides tightly enough that she could feel her nails biting into her skin.

"You know why I'm here," she said gruffly, although her voice held a tint of weakness, a bit of a question.

He nodded.

One of her arms came up, grabbing for the other one and crossing her chest as if to ward off any sudden verbal blows he might deal. She couldn't help but feel defensive considering she'd been in his room for almost four minutes now and he had said nothing. "I—I have to say this. I can't _not _say it, not with tomorrow—"

"Minako-san," he said, his voice low.

She glanced up at him from the wooden floors that had held her attention during the beginning of her rambling confession, but she ignored it and continued. She couldn't be sidetracked or she'd never get it out, and it had to be said.

Even if the honorific—oh, the fear of rejection was climbing higher in her stomach now. He couldn't even just _say her name_, and she was sure he would push her out of here soon. But it had to be done. Everything else was taken care of; this had to be taken care of as well.

The lump in her throat, now solid and stuck to the tender tissue, was swallowed down so she could force the words out.

"I—I don't want to make you uncomfortable. And I'm sorry if that, if what I say makes you uncomfortable, but tomorrow we could all die and I can't _not_ say it. Does that make sense?" She shook her head, mumbling. "Probably not."

Finally she locked eyes with him again, this time not letting her fear push her gaze toward the floor in front of her.

"You—you have to have known—"

"Minako," he said, the time dropping the honorific and using a force she had rarely heard from him.

His hand was slowly rising from his lap, and after a period of time that felt like a decade she realized what he was saying, what he wanted. Hope surged brightly in her belly.

She stepped forward tentatively, almost dragging her feet, but in the space of a moment her toes were next to his futon and his hand was grasping hers, pulling her down to the soft mat. She landed on the soft futon next to him, his hands now softly playing with her hair as she untied her boots and set them to the side. Next was her jacket, thrown onto the boots and crinkling softly as it landed on the hard leather.

As he pulled her down to stretch out beside him, she realized there was nothing left to be said.

* * *

A/N: By Yamamoto wishing for a "true death" or "final death," I don't mean one where he disappears. I mean he's tired, that he's ready to return to the cycle and forget what he has been and what he's done in Seireitei. According to the databooks, people who die in Soul Society return to the human world without their memories. It's the reincarnation cycle, basically, and he's ready to move on if he dies in battle.

And for those of you who are going "Who the hell is Matsu?" Look back to the chapter where Isane, Minako, and Nanao are discussing everything while waiting on the taichou meeting to end. They discuss a man in Minako's past-Matsu. We'll actually see more of her old lover later in the story.


	19. Chapter 19

A/N: As usual, all the important information is lurking in the notes of the first two parts. And for those of you not on AFF, yes, Chapter 18 is missing. It's, well, R-rated and not allowed on the other sites. I don't want anything yanked or to be banned from anywhere. I know people post all the time on FF without problems, but I'm also due to have my last name become Murphy, and Murphy's law gets us all the time.

And the eye color issue, which is probably bugging me more than you guys. Apparently Kyouraku's eyes change color in the anime, but 335 of the manga (a color chapter) shows him with brown eyes. I was right! Unfortunately, that freakin' mangaka changed Ukitake's eye color on me. In the earliest color scans, Ukitake has copper eyes. In 335, they're green. I'm sticking with copper; I can't even imagine him with green eyes other than in that picture! Although—well, he's smexy in the picture. That's all I'm gonna say. They both are, really. Kyouraku looks damn good in a suit!

And as for Ukitake-Sexy-Voice, which shows up in 18 and this chapter, well, it is! That seiyuu has a voice straight from a romance novel! Itachi=sexy voice. Ukitake=sexy voice. I can't help it! I don't know about the English version, but the Japanese seiyuu—mmmm.

There will be some notes at the end of Chapter 20 too; I recommend you read them. There are some important things covered.

Enjoy!

* * *

"The Noble Sort"

* * *

Minako woke the next morning feeling pleasantly warm, even though the sun hadn't risen yet and it was early winter.

Juushirou—and she could legitimately call him that now—was pressed up against her back, his heat warming her skin to a pale blush. And Hidaruma, flurry and fluffy, was in front of her, barely half a foot away, also warming her skin. She had two personal heaters, and she was happy.

She was pretty sure the agreement had been that he would _stay away_ for the night, but it must have gotten colder outside. Besides, there most likely wasn't any time left for any activities she would shame her zanpakutou with.

Surely other people didn't have to think about these things, right?

She felt the arm around her waist tighten as his breathing pattern changed, and she feigned sleep, desperate to see his reaction to Hidaruma sharing the futon.

_Oh, and something else is awake, too…_

She feigned sleep and shifted backward just a little, allowing his lower body to come into full contact with her back. She heard him stifle a noise—a groan, maybe—before he exhaled slowly. She knew he was most likely trying to control himself.

She felt his head raise up as his hand flailed about, no doubt tickled by the extravagant fur brushing up against it, and he let out a—very girly—shriek, the arm on her waist tightening again and pulling her close while the one beneath her neck continued to flounder about.

She would never tell him it wasn't a manly noise, though. He would already be embarrassed.

She felt him try to calm his breathing as he edged them away from the mass of black fur and muscle on the other side of his futon, and it was over for her. He was acting like an academy student scared by their first hollow.

She couldn't stand it anymore; she let the laughter loose.

"You knew he was here with us? You could have warned me!"

The exasperation he felt over his wake-up surprise was clear, but she couldn't help finding the situation funny.

"But it—too good!"

"And you! What are you doing in here?" he said demandingly, as if scolding a child.

Hidaruma just cracked open an eyeball, scooted a little closer, and returned to dreamland.

"Probably too cold outside for him," she said, and she could feel the disgruntled air coming off her lover as she moved to cuddle the hellhound. "Poor shishi," she murmured.

"So I should expect this often?"

The sweet, no-nonsense way he said it, so accepting of the idea that they would share a futon—well, a bed, if she had any say in the matter—in the future warmed her heart in a way she didn't think possible. The future was uncertain, but just the idea that he wouldn't mind sharing one with her…

"Probably."

She blushed—a very rare thing.

The arm around her waist pulled her a few scant inches backward, tight against his chest, and she could feel his nose burrowing in her hair. It definitely ended any thoughts she had of hugging the shishi. She wiggled down into the blankets and his arms, seeking the warmth that waking up and moving had made her lose. The air was too chilly to be up yet. They had at least another hour before even the taichou had to report.

"You have everything you need for today?" he asked quietly, his voice muffled by her hair in his face.

She just nodded, knowing he would feel it. He was still and quiet for a moment, most likely pondering what they would face this morning, and then he nosed through her hair, nuzzled her neck, and placed a soft kiss on her jaw line.

She almost purred with content; she was sure she was glowing after last night.

"Do you?" she asked.

He nodded against her neck.

Then they had about an hour to enjoy the peace before they had to get up, get ready, and go to war. She had longer, but she knew the taichou were meeting early to make sure everything went right.

His arm slid lower, then, down to her hips, and she felt him trace a line down her thigh, caressing, fondling, teasing. His hand slipped in between her legs and she felt him lift one, sliding his knee in between her thighs.

_Mmm…_

"Not that I don't appreciate the thought, but Hidaruma—"

"Will not be watching, if he knows what is good for him," he said, his voice husky from sleep and turning her on more than should ever be possible.

If the giant dog didn't bother him, she'd put aside her own shyness for one more round before the day they had all dreaded began.

She gave in.

* * *

_Four hours later_

Everything was crazy. Shinigami were running around everywhere, including the newly-transferred Karakura Town, and those that would be fighting to defend the pillars and the fake Karakura had left at least an hour before.

She had stayed in Juushirou's rooms until she felt the need to let Sasakibe—and her own private back-up—know she was present and accounted for. There was nowhere else for her to go here, really, and she hadn't wanted to leave his futon. Leaving meant ending the night they had shared, and while she usually wasn't emotional, she was definitely feeling that way right now.

And Hidaruma had been on her case since Juushirou left, not because they had sex with him in the room—apparently only an issue to her, really—but because she had suddenly become a 'lovesick female' that was 'incapable of emotional control.'

They had argued back and forth before she tried to banish him from the futon, at which point he told her that if her lover could accept him being there she would just have to grin and bear it. The point had been bandied back and forth for almost half an hour before she just gave up.

She had lost an argument to a dog.

Suddenly, though, she was ripped out of her musings by a flash of bright red hair behind a building right in front of her, definitely right in her line of vision.

_Akane._

And right behind her, Chouko.

She jumped off the third division building that had become her informal post at the moment and headed toward them and the abandoned little custodial hut they were currently sneaking into. Somehow, they had made it this far into Seireitei. They were no longer just staying back and watching the show, ready to help her with the seals if she needed. They wanted something else.

She threw the door open, threw herself in, and slammed it shut as quickly as possible; even if the shinigami were all busy, they might notice a clandestine meeting of exiles in the middle of Seireitei at some point.

As she looked around she was even more surprised. Akane and Chouko were there, of course, but Kenta and Isamu had also shown up. The two former Kidō Corp. members had made it very well-known that they had no plans to fight on either side, so their arrival was…fishy. The arrival of her entire network even more so.

"What are you all doing here?"

"I'm ground support; I'm supposed to be here. Chouko you knew would show up, considering. But these two lugs, here," she said, pointing to the two men, "I have no idea! They just showed up this morning at the gate coordinates you gave me!"

All three women turned and looked at the two very large, imposing men.

"Got some news," Kenta said gruffly.

"Apparently some back-door dealin' goin' on—"

"And you don't wanna know which side—"

"'Cuz it's both," Isamu finished, and she realized once again why she rarely visited the two brothers.

She held her hands up, signaling for a pause.

_What?_

"What do you mean, 'back-door?'"

Isamu crossed his arms and looked down at her.

"Back-door. Wrong-way. However you wanna put it. Aizen's got a few traitors in 'is midst."

Her mind was racing. If so, if it was true, there might be a way they could capitalize on it. But she doubted it; it was too late, the battles were already raging and her part would be up soon.

"Who?"

"If the info. was right, Ichimaru."

"Could he be turned?"

"Not 'cording to the source. Says he's a loose cannon. No loyalty."

_Shit. Shit, shit, shit._

That was worse. Unlike the rest of the people on the battlefield, he would have no loyalty to anyone but himself. There was no real way to tell who he would go after and what his motive was.

"The other?"

"Arrancar. Supposedly he's turned from his master. Still stuck in Hueco Mundo, though."

No help at all, although she would be extremely happy if she could just have the man's sources herself. She doubted her uncle even knew of this. But that was how the secret corps worked; they weren't above using hollows as sources if it got them what they needed.

Suddenly she froze, staring up at the large expert in front of her. He had said both ways. Both sides. That meant that someone on their side was also dirty, which meant they could all be preparing to fall into a trap.

"And on this side?"

"Some low-levels Aizen's had panderin' to him for decades. Spread out, though. Most likely know everything goin' on. When they figured it out he sent word to the Second's taichou. She supposedly took care of't before she left."

"What do you think, Kenta?" she asked, looking to the other man for his input.

"I don't think any of 'em left can do anything major. Not this late in th' game."

_Nothing to be done, then._

"And you boys? Is that why you came all this way?"

They both shook their heads, eyes shining like diamonds.

"Then why? I thought you weren't going to get involved in this?"

"We weren't. But we still have contacts on the inside, y'know. An' if we heard right, an old friend from Zero'll be making an appearance soon."

The shudder that rolled down her spine was easily spottable, she was sure.

* * *

The battles for the support pillars were over; she couldn't hear the distant fighting over the comms anymore. The rumbling had ended only an hour and a half earlier, although no real word had come from the final front line in the human world. They had been in this limbo for at least two hours now, Minako sitting, waiting and watching from atop the gate closest to the transferred Karakura.

She could see a few people wandering through the streets below that weren't shinigami, most likely shocked and terrified, but it was to be expected. There was a reason he was targeting the town, and those with any decent level of spiritual pressure wouldn't have been knocked out like the normal humans.

When it was all over they would see who had seen what and take care of the situation. That was the shinigami's job, though, not hers.

Sasikbe had joined her less than an hour before, winded and crazed, and informed her that the Visoreds had gone into the barrier, joined the main battle. Ichigo, the human they had all put their hopes into, was still M.I.A.

Just as her uncle feared.

It didn't matter in the long run, though. She had a job to do whether or not the teenager showed up on time.

Other than that, he had said, he knew her uncle had engaged in battle and that many of the taichou were fighting the Espada in groups or one on one. There had been a brief moment of terror as she realized Ukitake—the Juushirou thing was still off and on—was somewhere in the other barrier, fighting for his life.

She hoped that he stayed down until Aizen left. The Espada were one thing, but Aizen—he would leave none of them standing when he finally came this way.

She would have little warning, perhaps a few minutes when Aizen began to open the Garganta, and she was finally starting to feel the pressure building inside her chest. It felt like a weight sitting on her lungs, immobile and steadfast. There was no way she could fail now, but the possibility was always there. No amount of practice made anything foolproof, and the long list of things that could go wrong had run through her head over and over this morning.

In the end, she was forced to calm down and remember that there were no second chances here, that she couldn't change anything now.

She was as prepared as she could be.

As was Seireitei. The academy, the lower-level unranked shinigami, and anyone below fourth seat had been evacuated into the human town, where they could be protected by her barrier. Those left behind would be little match for Aizen, but at least they wouldn't be as bad as throwing kids into his path like flies for him to swat aside.

And her guys were now positioned at different intersections throughout the town, ready to throw up kidō flares for the harder seals. It would give her an easy way to pinpoint locations that could make the circle half-sphere _thing_ her uncle had requested instead of her typical barrier. She still thought it was a lot of hassle to go through for one little barrier that probably wouldn't be that effective in the long run.

She turned to the older man beside her, frowning.

"You should move in now. I won't have much time when I get going."

He shook his head at her and then returned to scanning the city and the skies for any sign of trouble.

"I have my orders, Minako-sama."

"Oh?" she said, an amused lilt in her voice. "Has oji-san given you babysitting duty?"

She saw his quick smirk before he was able to wipe it away.

"Of course not, Minako-sama. I am…supervising."

"Oh. Supervising. You came all the way back here to…supervise."

"Indeed."

"Me or them?" she said, jerking a thumb over her shoulder at the mass of terrified confusion behind them. All the fuku-taichou and seated officers worth anything were already in battle or had already fought. Or were in Hueco Mundo.

They were left with a writhing ball of nothing, third and fourth seats from almost every company that weren't worth the zanpakutou they held. And there were less than a hundred of them. Cannon fodder for Aizen, if it came to it. They would be enough to make him pause a moment in his progress but not enough to do any harm. They were a stall tactic, essentially.

As a matter of fact, the only fuku-taichou left were Sasakibe and Nanao. He was here now, playing leader, and she was inside the 'barrier-zone,' as Minako had named it, trying to keep everyone calm and situated. She was the planner, in effect. The organizer.

Minako figured the feisty little fuku-taichou would have something to say about that when her taichou returned from battle. She almost regretted that she wouldn't be there to see it. She sighed, closing her eyes and shaking the thoughts out of her head. It did little good to concentrate on her approaching mortality. Better to ignore it until it was right in front of her.

She heard Sasakibe suck in a breath and a terrified murmur sweep across the crowd behind the gate; everyone was pointing at a small black dot in the western sky.

Garganta.

It was taking quite a long time to form, though, which was good for her, but it also meant that the barrier was still up over the fake Karakura Town, that he had to fight it to get the full Garganta formed. At least, she hoped it did.

If the barrier was still up, Gen-oji-san was still breathing somewhere.

As four pillars of light shot into the sky above Karakura, she _moved._

She jumped from the ledge she had been standing on to the full wall next to the gate, which was by far larger and safer. If she began to kick up a wind from her reiatsu, she would need that sturdy foundation.

Sasakibe had obviously taken the cue she gave and fled backward, coming to rest on a building off to her right. The troops could see him; he could see everything. It was the perfect spot for him right now.

_Ready, shishi?_

_Of course, my dear. Let's do this._

She could hear the grim resolve in Hidaruma's voice, and she used it to shore up her own courage.

She raised the blade in front of her.

"_Ryouken Jigoku no Akazora, Kaze-ni_!" she yelled.

He immediately released, and the sword-seal form was in front of her, the six seals dull on the blade without activation. She grasped the sword in her right hand and brought her left up near the tip of the blade.

"Dai-ichi Raimon: Kai!" she said, swiping her left hand across the first seal and it immediately began glowing bright blue.

She felt the seal begin to fall and maneuvered it to the street near her right, the seal making contact with the concrete at exactly the same time the lightning struck the very spot. Then, she brought her hand back up.

"Dai-ni Himon: Kai!"

Another swipe of her left hand, and the second seal glowed a luminous orange.

This one she maneuvered to a spot of pavement to her left, where one of the flares was being sent up, which immediately had a small fire burning in the spot marking the seal's landing zone. She hoped that pavement would be enough to keep Karakura from burning, considering there was no way for her to surround the whole town. It would be less dangerous then, but she didn't have near the power to do it.

"Dai-san Tenkamon: Kai!" she screamed, swiping her hand across the third seal and watching the purple glow appear right before her eyes.

There was a very loud boom and a scream as she startled someone with the lightning and fire mixture off in front of her, in the exact spot of the furthest kidō flare. She was sure they had moved in time, but it couldn't have been a nice surprise.

Poor Chouko.

She could see the location in her mind's eye, and she made sure the seal made it all the way to the pavement. Then, she stepped backwards a few feet, glancing into the sky at the approaching garganta.

"Sanmon no Akazora: Kai!"

The barrier flashed into existence, uniting the three seals in a triangular shape. Her hands flew again, tracing out a circle and dragging the lines into it, and the lines connecting the seals bent into a circular shape stretching throughout Karakura and, in one case, even through a building.

"Rokumon no Genshukusa," she said, and while there was no reaction amongst the seals or the barrier, a wind flew up suddenly, surrounding her and the scared shinigami behind the wall. She could hear someone wailing now, even, which almost disgusted her.

Except, well, it was Aizen. She could understand their fear.

"Dai-yon Raikagemon: Kai!"

She swiped her hand across the fourth seal and it glowed a deep dark blue. The seal materialized a scant ten feet in front of her, high in the air, but she pulled it down with her left hand and fought to get it to pavement level. She released it and, thankfully, it stayed.

"Dai-go Hokagemon: Kai!"

She swiped her hand across the fifth seal and watched it glow bright red. She focused on the location of the kidō flare to her left and used her left hand to forcefully drag the fifth seal down to pavement level. There was a short burst of light not a second later, one of the team telling her it was in position and she could release the seal.

"Dai-roku—"

She choked on the wind and the dust being sent her way by the reiatsu that was fluctuating wildly around her. She could feel Hidaruma's concentration though, his hold on the part of her power she never felt comfortable releasing, and she forced it out.

"Dai-roku Okagemon: Kai!"

She swiped her hand across the seal on the sword and it glowed black. She forced the seal, already so low as to be down on the ground, form over the last flare to her right. There was a final shot of light and she let it go.

All six seals were in place.

"Taikasei!" she shouted, raking her hand down all six seals glowing on the flat of the blade in front of her, and she felt all the seals connect on the same level ground, in one dimension. The seals on her blade pulsed once in tandem, and then the colors were gone. Everything was golden.

A cheery, goldish-orange bubble that looked transparent but shiny, much like the bubbles she had seen kids playing with in the park, popped up over three quarters of Karakura Town.

She stepped back, standing up—when had she hunched over like that?—and took in a deep breath. She was pouring sweat and shaking like she had run a marathon, but the barrier was up before the full Garganta opened.

Just barely, though. She could already see Aizen and Gin in the distance, walking out of the black hole, stepping into a portion of Karakura she wasn't able to shield. Hopefully the damage he would do would be minimal.

She turned and jumped down at the same time as Sasakibe.

"I have to—"

"Go! If he comes this way we'll do what we can. But you have to keep it up however long you can!"

She nodded, already running for one of the buildings near the gate.

But she never made it.

She wasn't sure exactly how they had traveled so fast but they were there, right in front of her, Aizen with his evil smirk and Gin with his clueless facial expression. She could hear someone screaming at him in the background, and she swore she heard Sasakibe yelling something, but they were out of her mind now.

He was here. In front of her.

She was terrified.

Whatever he had done to himself, it wasn't normal. He looked like a Hollow, really, or a very fancy Arrancar. And the sheer power rolling off of him had all but a few of the shinigami behind her down on the ground, unconscious.

_My God…_

She took an involuntary step back, her instincts telling her to flee, but it wouldn't do any good. He would catch up with her.

So she once again bolstered herself and stood her ground. The hand holding Hidaruma stiffened, her body already prepping for a battle she knew she could never win.

"Yamamoto-fuku-taichou."

"_Aizen_," she spat, her disgust obvious.

He just stood there, smirking.

She could hear Hidaruma screaming in her mind, telling her they had no choice anyway and to just do it, but she was literally frozen in the face of the threat they were all working to eliminate. The idea of suddenly stabbing herself with her own sword wasn't even computing at the moment.

"I had always hoped to see your barrier. Of course, I never thought you would be joined with them, trying to thwart me or my plans. After all, they have wronged you, have they not?"

She swallowed, and her hands balled up at her sides.

"Do I frighten you?" he said, sounding feral yet calm. It was odd, almost as disconcerting as hearing her voice when meshed with Hidaruma's.

"I think you do," Gin said, his singsong voice completely inappropriate for the situation.

"Shut it, Ichimaru," she murmured, her voice low in the din created by his reiatsu being released. She raised her sword to the side, straight out. If she had to…

"Or is it the truth you cannot handle, Minako? What have you told them about that terrifying day all those years ago? Do they think I am the cause of your pain? Have you even told your oji-san the truth? Have you told him his own are responsible?"

She heard Sasakibe gasp.

The barrier was fighting her now; it had been too long. It was pulling too much power and without using bankai it was unsupportable for more than a few minutes. Her body was tugging at her, the power drain and emotional overload becoming too much.

"Or are you spinning tales, trying to protect them from the truth about their corrupt dictatorship?" He smiled at her, a predatory smirk if she'd ever seen one. "You always did tell a _good_ _story_."

He took a large step forward and then the tenuous standoff was over, finished, as Sasakibe made a suicidal dash for the madman in front of her. She felt more than heard herself scream at him to stay back, he didn't know what was going on and she wanted to know _how he knew and how much he knew_ but it was too late, Gin was laughing and his blade was already in Sasakibe's stomach, and she didn't even have to move her sword for it to begin.

She felt herself drop to the ground like a rock, felt the fire spreading inside her as Hidaruma screamed and she screamed from the feeling of a billion cells rearranging, shifting, changing. Evolving in a way they were never meant to.

She could see the childish glee on Aizen's evil face as he watched, most likely extremely interested in seeing what they had done to her, what they had thought would be able to defeat him, and she closed her eyes. It was not an image she wanted, and the pain was becoming unbearable.

She was going to pass out. It was all going to have been for nothing because she wasn't going to make it through the fucking transformation because of the energy she had already expended.

As everything dulled from fire to black she could hear Hidaruma, but she couldn't understand him.

* * *

She woke in the same courtyard she had passed out in, shinigami bodies all around. Some were dead but most were just unconscious, the effect of Aizen's power.

The pain was gone, now, which meant she was flame. She brought her hand up in front of her face and, sure enough, saw orange-bright flame with pinpricks of blue where the tips of her fingers should have been.

She pushed herself off the ground slowly, carefully, afraid that any movement might cause her to lose the form. But she still felt light and pain-free, and the feeling intensified when she saw her barrier was still stable.

_I told you. I can control it when you cannot. _

_Thanks, shishi._

It was always different, their conversation. More like speaking to herself than another entity. It was terrifying for both of them, except it was exhilarating at the same time.

She saw Sasakibe, thankfully still breathing although badly wounded, and glided over to him.

"Will you live, old man?" she asked, her voice a strange mix of male and female, as if two voices were speaking from one mind. Interference, Urahara had called it. Said it sounded like radio interference, as if you were picking up two stations at the same time.

His eyes were wide with shock and—even though she hated the very thought of it—fear, and he nodded. He was pale, definitely in pain, but he would live.

"Where did he go?"

"To—toward the city."

She crouched low and pushed off with her feet, suddenly jumping through the air so fast that shunpo wouldn't catch her.

She landed on the concave side of her barrier, scanning the available bit of city he could be in. Who knew what he was doing to the people he found there? She couldn't stop him. Hell, she couldn't injure him. But she could slow him down, even if just long enough for the human to get here…

A long, straight sword reminiscent of Hidaruma in his everyday form slowly sprouted from her right hand, the hilt coming from her left. She was not weaponless, and she was unbelievably hard to injure in this form.

A large crash from her left had her swinging around, pivoting on what was once a foot as she turned to face the disturbance.

There.

Matsumoto was down, obviously, but Gin had finally played his hand. He was lying on a pile of rubble, severely injured, and Aizen was standing above him, ready to deliver the killing blow.

She pushed off once again, intent on getting there and joining the fight.

Their blades met, hers swinging in a large arc and pushing his away from the silver-haired man laying in the rubble—but he was off, gone far enough away that he could guess her next movement before she could consider another swing.

"You should not get involved in this, Minako."

She grinned at him as she stepped into the stance she was so accustomed to.

"This is not your fight."

"Maybe not," she conceded, "but I'm here."

She flitted towards him, her bankai-increased speed making her invisible to the naked eye, but he was too quick. Her sword didn't even meet his before he was away, moving once again out of range.

"Are you gonna fight or just run away?"

He shook his head at her, an evil smile on his face.

"I know better than to let you get too close. I know what they have done to you; the only way for me to safely kill you is to force your transformation."

She snorted.

"And you say this isn't my fight. What was done to me is _your fault_."

"Ah, but I did not do it, now did I?"

"I wouldn't put it past you to have had a hand in it, though. Always scheming."

She flicked her sword and then her left hand shot up in the air in front of her.

Aizen was immediately engulfed in a pillar of flame—Hibashira. It wasn't her strongest attack but it was her favorite due to its immediacy and the chance of crippling any opponent vulnerable to her element. But when the pillar disappeared—he was fine. Not even smoldering.

"Minako. You should know better."

_I can't defeat him. I know that._

_Then we keep him busy and talking, onna._

She moved to flit to his position again but he was suddenly in front of her, sword flashing near her neck. The quick movement threw her off balance but she recovered quickly, her shunpo turning into a quick retaliatory strike at his left arm.

It did no good.

He was already gone, at least three blocks away. He was toying with her; she could feel her anger rise at it. He knew she had no chance of defeating him but he continued to _play_ with her.

But it didn't matter—she was buying time, right?

And then the scene changed, she was standing in the middle of the road but Aizen was where he had been at the beginning, where he had been all along, standing right beside Ichimaru. He had tricked her—the anger she felt grew.

She moved again, this time putting all the energy she had behind the shunpo—

She stopped short nearly a block away as the human kid that Urahara was always talking about appeared, and—_well, what a surprise_—an old face with him. He moved to Aizen and their fight was on.

Ichigo had made it then.

She heaved a sigh of relief. There would never have been a chance for her to defeat Aizen, even for her to fight him seriously. The cat and mouse game would have ended eventually and she would have been in the same state Ichimaru was, down on the ground in agony, dying.

She kept the barrier up, not sure who would win or what kind of damage they would possibly do, and moved to Ichimaru, slowly. He was breathing badly, obviously run through at least once already.

She lifted her sword, prepared to take at least one of the men who had cause all of the chaos and strife they had faced out of this world once and for all, but Matsumoto was in front of her suddenly, almost sobbing.

"Please don't. I—I need—"

_Are we gonna get to kill anyone today, onna?_

_You are upset that we did not need to really fight? Are you for real?_

She stepped back, lowering her sword.

_I'm getting soft, shishi._

He grunted.

She turned and looked at the other man—shinigami—lying on the ground, and she could feel her face breaking out into a smile. Boy, tons of people were popping up today, weren't they?

"Isshin-san."

He just huffed a large breath at her, obviously extremely worn out from whatever had been going on inside the strange Garganta they had seen earlier.

And then there was a bright flash of something, able to make her feel like the retinas she didn't have had been burned, and she couldn't feel Aizen's crushing power anymore. Whatever had happened over there, Aizen wasn't what he once was.

They had won.

* * *

A/N: Chapter 20 will be up asap.


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: As usual, all the important information is lurking in the notes of the first two parts. This chapter is the second part of the final Aizen battle, and as you saw from the earlier chapter, I tried to make her just one of the many, not too intrusive in Kubo's storyline. But from here it's total AU, especially considering that I only know who survived as of the time I was writing. And there are still some we aren't sure on.

Caution: There will be minor spoilers! If you haven't read this far in the manga, be warned.

As always, R & R!

Enjoy!

* * *

"The Noble Sort"

* * *

_They had won._

She could feel the grin taking over her face, sure it would frighten anyone actually looking.

He was gone. The bane of every shinigami, every Visored, even the humans who didn't know anything about the spirit world, he was dead. And if he wasn't dead, although she really hoped he was, he wasn't moving anytime soon.

And it had been easier than she had ever thought! Well, her part at least.

But—_damn_—Matsumoto was wailing behind her, and Isshin was obviously badly hurt. She knew that there were those needing treatment inside the gates, too, and the medical teams left behind were trapped in her barrier.

All it took was a wave of her hand.

The glowing barrier collapsed loudly, like squares folding in upon themselves from top to bottom. It was similar to a collapsible tent, only ten times louder. But the orange glow was fading and the drain on her energy with it; soon Karakura would be completely free again and her barrier a thing of the past for the shinigami trapped within.

Four shadows splashed in front of her, her small group reforming now that the battle was over, and she mimicked a deep breath. The relief she felt was palpable.

Now people were appearing, some kids from the alley near Gin's final stand, a group of businessmen from a building adjacent to her position. They would have to get Isshin, Matsumoto, and Gin's body out of here before anyone realized what was going on. She knew that if they were awake, they had spiritual power. They could possibly see them.

"Akane—"

"We're on it. We'll get them to the medical teams and then head to the outskirts. Is there any specific place we should meet up?"

She flicked her sword to the right.

"There's a monastery in the mountains, there," she said, her voice hushed. It wouldn't do for Matsumoto or Isshin-san to hear them. "They'll give me shelter; at the very least, we can hide out there long enough to get a gate to the real world."

"We can always hide in a building and just wait for them to transfer the city, Minako."

She shook her head at Isamu. It was a good idea in theory but not in practice.

"It could take them days to get everything back to normal. They'd be able to find us and I'd be too vulnerable to even protest any of you being thrown in jail. They," she stopped, a fiery 'hand' coming up to rub her forehead, "I know they've reconvened Central. It's too dangerous right now. I don't want any of you caught in Seireitei politics, or its warped justice system, merely because you helped me with this."

"Either way, we shouldn't just stand around, guys," Akane said, her eyes shifting about.

"I agree. We need to get a move on. People will be flooding the area soon if we leave Gin's body here."

Kenta nodded, quickly moving to hoist up Isshin and take off toward the gates where the medical teams would be coming together. Isamu mirrored his movements, moving to shoulder Gin's body even as Matsumoto shrieked her protest.

"You have to let him, Matsumoto. You have to get out of here, now!" Minako said fiercely.

The strawberry-blonde looked up at her, most likely not recognizing the person in front of her but so defeated by her grief she didn't protest. She stood, her pink scarf swaying in the wind as she was off, following Isamu not a second later.

Chouko sped off behind her.

"And me, Obi-wan?" Akane asked, and Minako felt herself try to grin.

"You stick with me. If I don't make it to the monastery you'll have to get the guys and bring them to my position."

"How long—"

"_Too fucking long_."

She glanced around, finally picking a five story building to her left, and jumped. Akane was right on her heels.

From here she could see the easiest path to the monastery, but it was very close to the walls. Too close. They would need to round about, slip down to the east and then head up towards the hills once they got out of the city and into Rukongai.

"Follow me."

She skipped from rooftop to rooftop, keeping her pace slow and steady to avoid draining her energy any further while also allowing Akane to keep up. Akane couldn't match her pace normally; right now she wouldn't have a chance to keep up if Minako let herself go full speed.

Five minutes in, no one was following them. Still, neither female let their guard down, Akane continually taking the cues Minako offered up. The paranoia the older woman felt was a tangible force in the air surrounding them. Both women had eyes and ears open for any change in their environment.

"What's up?"

She almost tripped mid-air, the suddenness of Akane's question startling her out of her perusal of their surroundings.

"What do you mean?" she asked cautiously.

"Something's on your mind. You're more worried than you were before the battle. It doesn't make any sense."

Aizen's face flashed in front of her eyes.

"_Do they think I am the cause of your pain? Have you even told your oji-san the truth?"_

It had been in the back of her mind since, only pushed out by the survival instincts that had taken over during the intensity of the encounter in Karakura. Shinigami had heard him. It would take time, but the news would get back to her uncle, if he lived, or whoever would be in charge if he had perished.

She hoped it would be buried, but she knew it wouldn't. There would be even more questions now, questions she couldn't rightfully answer without causing even more trouble for herself and oji-san. It was better to disappear for a while, long enough that everyone forgot what Aizen had said and concentrated on the fact that she had shown up and done her part.

"Aizen," she muttered.

"What about him?"

"He knew. And he fucking revealed it in front of several conscious shinigami, one of which was Sasakibe." She heard Akane's gasp but ignored it. "I have to get the hell out of here for a while—hope to Kami no one thinks it important enough to mention, too. Hope it ends up forgotten."

"You know that won't happen! They'll latch onto it!"

"What was I supposed to do, Akane?" she shouted over the wind racing by their ears. "It was _Aizen_. I couldn't just tell him to shut his mouth, now could I?"

"You could have killed the ones still alive!"

"Not even I'm that bloodthirsty," she replied, shooting the redhead a dirty glare. "Plus, I was in the middle of a delightful transformation. Too busy to kill someone, thank you."

"'It's them or you.' Remember that? The first piece of advice you ever gave me. You always said that if it came down to who lived, then you had to choose yourself."

"Right now it isn't threatening my life," she muttered.

"It will, and you know it. You're being thickheaded on purpose. You're—you've gone soft."

"I've been living with them, Akane! Damn it! I can't kill them!"

"They would kill you, Minako! If Central ordered it they would cut you down like you don't matter!"

She jumped from the house they had just landed on, the grass in front of it springy and, now, charred. Akane was fuming in front of her, her red hair a mess and her typical leather jacket looking a little worse for wear.

"You told me you would never go back. Has that changed?"

Minako hung her head, staring at the burnt grass beneath her flaming form.

"Well?"

"I can't answer that."

"Why not?" she shrieked.

"Because it's—it's complicated, alright?"

"It's—it's not _complicated_, Minako. It's a simple yes or no."

They stared at each other for a long moment, then Minako shook her head.

"I don't know."

And she took off again, aiming for the approaching outskirts of Rukongai, Akane sputtering profanities behind her but following all the same.

* * *

_4 Hours Later_

"No Zero yet."

"Nope."

"Not a sign of one of 'em."

"Nope."

"Not one taichou-level shinigami we don't know."

"I get the point, Kenta."

"This is pointless, then."

"Probably."

"Should we go ahead n'leave, then?"

Both of the men looked at the woman leaning against the concrete wall between them. It wasn't immediately obvious to any outsiders, but she had the power in the group.

Mainly because she was Kenta's wife; he didn't want to sleep on the couch.

She scowled.

"No. Give it a few more hours."

"Proba'ly right. They could wait until everyone's back to show up."

"Could."

"Or they could be waiting for Minako to appear before they show."

"Could."

"I doubt it."

"Hmm."

Chouko just continued scowling, her eyes darting from face to face in the small shinigami medical camp less than a quarter of a mile in front of them.

"What about Minako?"

"What about her?"

"She'll be out of form by now. Akane could prob'ly use the help takin' care of her. I've never seen it, but I've heard about it. Seen th' aftermath."

"The monks will help."

"Yeah."

Chouko crossed her arms over her chest, her brows furrowing even further.

* * *

_2 Hours Later_

Akane watched as the monks fluttered around the still form in the bed, chewing on one of her knuckles.

Minako had finally given up making it to the monastery in her bankai form, but she had been close enough that Akane had been able to scream for help from the monks instead of having to leave her in the forest to die while she trekked back to the city to get the others.

It was a small blessing, the only one they had been delivered so far.

There was blood everywhere, covering the sheets and the mattress and even the pillow; she could see Minako's barely breathing form, a burnt husk of what was once a pretty woman. Her skin was a mottled mess of charred black skin and pink blisters.

Akane fought the urge to vomit.

_This is why,_ the redhead thought. _This is why Urahara gave her the damned time limit. She should have listened to him, not tried to play the hero for a group of shinigami that couldn't care less about her._

"You'll have to get—"

"Do we have anymore of those sterile bandages?"

"You'll have to just cut it off if you can't get it to—"

The monks had taken control immediately, one burly man in an orange and red robe immediately swinging the devastated form into his arms and running toward the compound. They had whisked her into the room they had set up as their personal infirmary and instantly begun bathing the blood off of her with soft sponges, hissing at the burns they found all over her body, trying to cut her melted clothes off.

She had been pushed into a rickety wooden chair near the door, told to wait and not leave the room in case they had any questions. So far they had ignored her presence. They were too busy trying to keep their patient alive.

Blood was pooling on the floor now, a shimmering crimson puddle underneath the small bed.

The same fluid began to flow beneath her teeth, the consequence of biting down too hard.

They should have talked her out of it. They should have done something instead of offering to help, anything that would have gotten her to stay away from the battle.

The fight itself had been easy, at least their part. Once Aizen had made it to Seireitei he had been defeated quickly. But this—Minako knew this was waiting for her even if she didn't have to take part in the main battle. She had known the entire time and never said anything to them at all, only that she would need 'looking after' when she left her bankai form.

_Bullshit._

Akane had been on a battlefield before. When she had served in the Gōtei 13 she had served under one of the noblest families in Seireitei, the famed Kuchiki shinigami. She had seen men die, seen battle wounds that would make a hardened soldier squeamish.

But she had never seen anything like this.

"Over ninety percent of her body—"

The taste of blood was metallic on her tongue; she couldn't tell if it was from the small wound she was creating on her knuckle or from the blood pooling around Minako, the scent of which hung heavily in the air. It was making her stomach turn, the small breakfast she had eaten that morning gone but enough liquid present to creep up her esophagus.

"I don't know, I've never—"

"But where is the bleeding—"

Her eyes shifted to the black sword propped against the wall near the bed. Hidaruma was covered in blood, and just letting her gaze fall on the sword brought back the horrific sound of his screaming combining with Minako's as they fought to regain human form.

The inhuman screaming would surely haunt her dreams for the rest of her life.

_Fucking shinigami._

* * *

_10 Days Later_

Yamamoto was pissed.

Anyone in the vicinity of the sou-taichou had heard his blustering the past few days, and his temper wasn't due to his missing arm. He was currently chewing out three of his finest taichou with another sitting patiently outside his office.

To anyone else Ukitake-taichou was calmly waiting for either his best friend or his sensei. That was what it looked like, at least, and the questionable look on his face was attributed to the maudlin thoughts he was voicing about the sou-taichou. That and the weird mood everyone had been in since the final battle; there hadn't really been any celebrating. Too many had been injured and close to death. Too many had died.

Ukitake-taichou was no different; that's how everyone but his third seats saw it.

He was acting out of character, that was for sure. They knew he had to be upset over his injuries as well as those of his sensei, but this was unbelievable. Rarely did the happy taichou they had come to know and love act like this, and they both thought that the statement of no one being able to replace the sou-taichou wasn't nearly enough to have brought about the level of morose behavior they had seen in him since the battle.

Maudlin was sometimes normal, yes, but not like this. He had even been drinking more than normal, joining his best friend every evening at a local teahouse.

It was the same with the sou-taichou. There was no way he was truly that upset about three missing haori. Perhaps the strain had finally gotten to him, or the fact that he had lost his arm. But missing haori? They doubted it. Something else was plaguing the most powerful group of men and women in Seireitei.

Of course, neither of the third seats had any possible way of knowing that their sou-taichou and their taichou were worrying about the mysterious disappearance of one female. They didn't know what Saskibe-fuku-taichou had told them about Aizen's short conversation with said female, and they had no clue that a meeting had taken place late last night in the Fourth Division concerning the chances of Minako's recovery without the aid of Unohana-taichou or Urahara-san, who both said it was very unlikely she would live more than a few days without advanced treatment.

They were clueless to what was building amongst the taichou; they only knew something was putting everyone on edge and it hadn't been explained to anyone without a white haori.

* * *

Minako was still motionless in the small bed the monks had given her.

Akane was now joined by Isamu, although they would both have to soon emulate Chouko and Kenta and leave for the human world. The longer they stayed the more chance there was of someone sensing them or finding out that the monks were hiding former shinigami.

She truly didn't want to leave; Minako was in no shape to go anywhere and would not be coming with them for at least a month, probably more. The monks were sure it would take at least that long for her to wake up.

They didn't heal with reishi, they had told them over and over again. Herbs and bandages would keep her alive, but her recovery would be slow. They continued to explain that her outward appearance was not indicative of her organs' deterioration.

Isamu had told her that meant that her skin was healing—the black was gone and so were many of the blisters, leaving rough pink and red patches of blisters instead of the mottled burns that had been present—but her organs were in bad shape. According to the conversations he had overheard, her kidneys were not working properly and continuing to get worse. And her lungs were so charred she was barely breathing, barely taking in enough oxygen to keep her blood flowing through her body.

It all boiled down to the fact that Minako needed someone trained in healing shinigami, but there was no one they could take her to. Even Urahara was too close to Seireitei at this point. And they didn't know if he was alive, not in jail, conscious and able to help them.

They also had their own safety to look after.

The fight she had with Minako on the way to the monastery had run through her head a thousand times in the past few days, the advice she had thrown back at the older woman lingering at the front of her subconscious. _'Them or You.'_

Did this qualify? Did she really care anymore?

She had been taught—even by the woman currently dying in front of her—that you had to secure your own life first. For Akane, that meant she should leave Minako here and go back to hiding in the human world. But—something kept her back.

Was this was Minako had felt? Was this why she hadn't killed the shinigami that heard Aizen's fateful remarks?

She was so angry at her, for everything at this point, but she also felt she finally understood what had made the woman hesitate. She knew the compassion that had stayed her hand. She might not fully agree with Minako's decision, but understanding was dulling the anger she had felt.

But a choice had to be made, and soon. The monks were getting antsy, wanting to take the patient into Rukongai or bring a healer here, and they would have to be long gone before that happened, with or without Minako.

And she still didn't know what to do.

The door to her right clattered open, the old sliding screen not nearly as smooth as the new ones in her apartment, and she sighed as Isamu entered with the herbalist monk that had been Minako's main caretaker the last week and a half.

Isamu nodded to her, stepping neatly to the side and leaning against her chair, while the monk, Hiro, checked bandages, puttered around the bed, and tsk'ed at whatever he found. His face, already rugged and lined from a long life lived in rough conditions, furrowed and scrunched in the late afternoon light.

"She is still not improving internally."

She looked up at Isamu as he sighed and nodded, and she wondered what they had been discussing this afternoon over tea—which she, a female, had not been invited to. The monks seemed to believe Isamu was their leader, a misconception they had let slide in favor of the treatment Minako was receiving.

"It is time for me to bring in another healer. Someone trained to heal such injuries."

"No." She was steadfast, and Isamu didn't argue with her opinion on bringing in another person.

The monk stared at her, his expression one of the deepest disbelief.

"She will die if you continue—"

"Shinigami cannot be brought here to heal her, and she can't be moved. You have to heal her."

The monk shot her a look, one she was sure monks were not even supposed to know. "Jo-san, I cannot heal her. I have tried. You must get a healer from the city if you wish her to live."

Isamu scoffed. "We have no money to pay them, and most of them are even more inept at healing than you are."

"There must be _someone_, surely."

"The only person is in the human realm, and you have said we cannot move her. He will not come here willingly, and we couldn't force him if we tried." Isamu sighed, biting his lip; she could tell what he was thinking.

"If he's even alive," she said gruffly. Isamu shot her a look but didn't refute her words.

"Either way, jo-san, she will die here without further treatment."

Akane looked at Isamu, defeat shining in her eyes.

"Well?"

"Unohana-taichou—"

"Cannot even be considered," she said fiercely. "They would all know where she is then."

"You know as well as I do that, even if we can get Urahara here, he can't heal _this._ Her internal organs are _roasted,_ Akane."

The monk had perked up at the mention of the legendary healer of Seireitei, and there was a sheen of hope in his eyes.

"Unohana-sama could heal her, indeed. I do not know this Urahara, but Unohana-sama is revered far and wide for her techniques."

Isamu and Akane looked at each other, scowling.

"And which one of us is going to just march into the Fourth Division and ask her to come heal an AWOL shinigami?"

Isamu cracked a grin. "I could do it. I have at least twenty more accents they haven't heard yet. That and a haircut, maybe some dye, and they won't even know it was me."

"Yeah, and they'll be real suspicious when you bring them here and then disappear. And you really think someone in Seireitei doesn't know how well you and Kenta can copy speech patterns? Please," she said, disdain dripping from her words, "your old comrades would be on you before you made it through the gates. You're too high profile."

"It's the best idea we have right now, right?"

The monk stepped up, his hands pressed together in front of him and his head bowed.

"We can fetch Unohana-sama if needed."

The two fugitive shinigami looked at him with shock written on their faces.

"Why—" Isamu cleared his throat, "why would you help us? We're fugitives." He pointed to the bed where Minako's still form lay. "She's a fugitive. They won't treat her near as badly as us, but we're all fugitives."

"We do not involve ourselves in such matters. We help the injured, console the grieving, comfort the lonely." He looked up at them, his eyes gleaming. "Occasionally, we contact the shinigami for something we have need of. They do the same."

The monk moved slowly toward the door, the serenity he naturally exuded back in place.

"She will come if we call her. But we cannot keep them from arresting you—it would be best if you leave soon."

He shut the creaking sliding door as quietly as possible, and the two stared at each other before looking at the burned woman in the small bed.

They really had no other choice.

* * *

A/N; This is officially the end of anything spoilerish regarding Bleach. From here on out everything is of my own design, completely AU. I am ignoring the current new arc in the manga and going in my own direction. After all, I was writing this arc when the battle was still going on this summer, so I didn't know everything. I've just gone back during editing and updated, added in the newer information.

Secondly, there were new characters introduced here. Some of them will play large roles, some will be supporting characters in the last half of this story. They are all original, mainly because no other exiles have been introduced to us in the manga except the Visoreds and Urahara's group. Unless you count Isshin, and I don't. We still don't have his story. So I created some. Same with Zero as they begin to pop up; we haven't seen any of them so I'm creating some.

And I've been thinking about changing the title of the story. It's no longer grabbing me. I rarely do this, but I've never liked the title and it's been on my mind for months. I'll make sure everyone knows if I do decide to change it. And if you have any ideas, feel free to shout them out. Worse comes to worse, I'll wait until the story is completely finished and posted before I change it, but at least this is a heads up to you all.

I've also been thinking about doing a Christmas chapter, although I'm not sure it would fit in with where we would be update-wise. Perhaps I'll do one and make it obvious that it's out of the timeline. I'm not sure. Anyone interested in that?

Finally, expect me to try to keep updating every ten days or so, but I will warn you all I'm headed into the busy part of my year. In my area the Christmas trade shows start this week, and then holidays, retail black period, and the end-of-year financial season. I'm a jack of all trades at a retail business; I do the books and the inventory control while also helping out with the trade shows and sales when needed. We also do framing and artwork, which is a big business around this time too. So I generally have very little time to do anything these last two months of the year, especially after Thanksgiving when I start cycle counting. I'm also in the middle of three major applications to work at universities and my GRE study, so I'm busy. Very busy. I'll try to keep up with updates, but don't worry if I fall behind. I will make sure the entire story is posted and finished. It's all done anyway, I'm just editing.


	21. Chapter 21

A/N: As usual, all the important information is lurking in the notes of the first two parts. From here on out we're AU, mostly at least. And this is the official beginning of the Second Arc of this story—Aizen is no longer the one we'll have to worry about.

Enjoy! R & R if you liked it!

* * *

"The Noble Sort"

* * *

_12 Days after the Final Battle_

When Hiro, the much respected monk from the monastery up in the hills beyond Rukongai, asked for admittance into Seireitei not even two days after Akane and Isamu's departure he was easily allowed in. Everyone knew him, everyone had seen him there before, and the guards figured he was there to bless someone or visit with a believer.

Monks, after all, are rarely questioned as criminals.

Hiro used this to his advantage; his serene countenance and kind smile allowed him to make it all the way to the Fourth Division—after asking for directions—without any problems.

He was allowed into the division with the same ease he had navigated Seireitei so far, and he found himself wandering the halls of the large medical complex, in awe of the technology and the techniques he saw but also becoming disheartened—the white haori that would identify Unohana-sama was not visible in any of the large rooms.

A young boy with short black hair ran past him, almost knocking him over in his haste, and he reached out, grabbing the boy's shoulder and turning him towards himself.

"Young one, could you tell me where I may find Unohana-sama?"

The boy looked startled and then, when he finally noticed that the man in front of him was a monk, bowed deeply.

"I—of course, houshi-sama. Is Unohana-taichou expecting you?"

The monk chuckled.

"I doubt it, young one. Especially this late. It is past dinnertime, yes?"

The boy nodded before latching onto his hand and dragging him through the maze of corridors. They came to a beautiful moonlit courtyard, very different than the one he had entered the division through, and the boy led him around the landscaping to another wing of the building.

They paused before a wall of screens lit by light coming from inside the room, and the boy bowed once more.

"One moment, houshi-sama."

The boy knocked lightly on the wooden frame of the door, and a soft voice from inside the room beckoned him to enter. Hiro stood silently on the porch, his eyes glancing around and taking in the lovely garden. Someone apparently appreciated the peace of nature as much as he did.

The boy popped in and out of the room quickly, sliding the door open and bowing to the monk as he entered. Then he shut the door, and Hiro could hear the staccato of his fast steps as he ran off to complete his nightly chores.

"Houshi-sama. Hajimemashite."

"Unohana-sama," he greeted her, her soft and melodious voice reminding him much of his own.

"Have I forgotten an appointment, or are you here to visit one of my patients?"

"No, Unohana-sama. Instead, it is I who am here to visit you, and I am most apologetic that I have come without warning. Unfortunately, it could not be helped."

"Of course. I assure you, is it perfectly fine." She gestured to the low table she was seated at. "Would you care for some tea? It has just been made."

He nodded, sinking slowly to the mat.

He allowed himself to watch the woman as she prepared him a cup of traditional black tea, and he found himself in awe of the healer he had come to see. Many had heard of this woman but few lived to actually see her. She was one of Seireitei's oldest, its best healer, and her beauty was not exaggerated. She was older than many of the women in Seireitei but it gave her a grace and serenity that he was sure helped in her chosen field.

"Now, houshi-sama, how may I assist you this evening?"

Hiro took a sip of the scalding tea before sitting his cup to the side. He resisted the decades-old urge to fiddle with the saucer, a habit he had broken himself of but still felt compelled to carry out.

"I have a patient I must request your help with."

"Indeed? You are in need of advice? That is most surprising; the citizens of Rukongai expound upon the virtues of the monastery's herbal healing methods."

"No, Unohana-sama. I must request that you come with me to the monastery and heal my current patient." He saw her eyebrows shoot skyward and forced himself to feel calm, to center himself and allow serenity to overtake his body.

"We have just fought a very large battle, houshi-sama. It is peaceful, but I cannot leave at present. Can the patient not be brought here?"

"It took me almost two days to get here, Unohana-sama. And I fear the patient would not survive being moved. Her wounds are extensive, both internally and externally. I can no longer treat her."

She folded her hands in front of her on the table, an expression of sadness overtaking her face.

"I am sorry, houshi-sama, but I cannot—"

"I believe she is one of yours, Unohana-sama."

At this the serene woman's eyebrows shot up once again.

"We are not missing any of our shinigami, houshi-sama. Everyone here is present and accounted for."

"Are you sure?" he asked, in a mysterious and lilting tone. "I am quite sure she was involved in your battle. She was brought to me almost twelve days ago, with wounds only a shinigami battle could have possibly caused." He paused, looking at her thoughtfully. "Perhaps I should have said she was _once_ one of yours. We do not discriminate when asked for help, after all."

Her eyes widened noticeably.

"Those who brought her to me would not allow me to intervene and come earlier—they feared for her life. Feared you, actually. But I have explained to them that she will not live without your intervention. They left before I did, knowing I had no other choice but to seek your help."

"Do you—her name? Do you know her name, houshi-sama?"

The woman's words were rushed, as if she already knew exactly who he had been treating, and he suddenly felt peace wash over him. This had been the right move.

"They would not say her name in front of me, Unohana-sama. She is petite, a slim woman, and she had long black hair when she was brought to us. We've had to cut it recently. She was brought in with a black sheath and sword; I believe it is one of your zanpakutou."

"And her eyes, houshi-sama?"

He could practically feel the woman holding her breath.

"I do not know. She has been unconscious throughout. When we try to open them—to get even the smallest visual response—all we see is white."

The woman nodded at him, her hands coming up to press against the large braid of hair in the middle of her chest.

"I believe I know who you have been treating, and you are correct, she is one of ours. If you will give me a few moments I will ready myself and an escort and we will return with you."

"I am most grateful, Unohana-sama."

She stood, pressing her hand to his shoulder.

"It is I that should be grateful to you, houshi-sama. You do not know—we have been very worried."

She hurried through another door as he stood slowly—his knees were no longer able to keep up with his usage of them—and reappeared shortly after with a tall woman with silver hair.

"Houshi-sama, this is Kotetsu Isane-san. She will be helping me with your patient." The graceful taichou swept through the office to the courtyard he had marveled at earlier, and she pulled a sword much like that of his patient. "I have notified one of my officers that we will be gone; I hope you are not afraid of heights, though. It will be faster to use Minazuki to travel."

Even as she spoke a great green beast appeared before her out of a green mist that had poured from her sword's sheath, reminding Hiro of the oddly-shaped fish he had once seen in a picture book one of the local children had. She quickly boarded the animal, her assistant helping him to follow her up onto the large green back.

As they lifted up into the sky and zoomed toward the hills, he felt peace once again wash over him.

Yes. This had been the right choice.

* * *

"Is that—Minazuki?"

Deep in the Twelfth Division, two surveillance workers pondered over the strange appearance of Unohana-taichou's shikai.

"Had we been notified of it, Minami?"

"Not that I know of." The young woman furrowed her brows as she stared at the screen. "But it's Unohana-taichou. Perhaps someone was injured somewhere and there was no time."

"You're probably right," he muttered, still staring at the screen.

"Log it just in case and send it in. Wouldn't want the Second to throw a fit about us not doing our jobs."

"Yeah. Whatever."

* * *

The taichou's green beast was indeed much faster than traveling on foot; the trip had taken him a day and a half earlier while the return trip was completed in less than a few hours.

Truly remarkable.

He ushered the women through the gates and the hushed courtyard, vacant now that it was so late, and then through the public rooms of the monastery. A few monks were up, cleaning or reading or praying, but most of them did not bat an eyelash at the behavior of their healer. They all knew he had a patient and that he had gone to seek the counsel of the legendary shinigami healer.

They slipped silently through the halls to the infirmary, small and primitive though it was. He was now feeling embarrassed over their poor standards of equipment, although he knew he should not. They were monks, not medical miracle workers.

He slid the creaking door open slowly and waved the women into the room in front of him, and when he heard the twin gasps of shock, watched the younger of the two women as she covered her mouth in surprise, he felt the need to grin. The gods had truly been with him this day.

"My patient, Unohana-sama, Kotetsu-san."

He approached the still form silently but swiftly and checked her pulse—still thread but, thankfully, there.

"You know her, yes?"

"Yes, houshi-sama, we do," Unohana-sama said breathily. "Yamamoto Minako."

"Yamamoto?" Hiro asked, his surprise clear. Everyone knew the sou-taichou's name, even the monks. No wonder she had been in such a hurry.

"Indeed. We've been looking for her since the battle. I'm afraid we feared she was beyond our reach by now."

He nodded absently as he checked some of the numerous bandages covering his patient's body. "She has been gravely ill. She still is, in truth. I have done all I can for her."

"We thank you for that."

He nodded again before looking up at the two women.

"I assume you will need rooms for the night? I can give you any information you need—"

"I am sorry, houshi-sama, but we will be leaving shortly. I have a way to transport her without causing even more trauma."

He felt his own eyes widen in surprise and shock.

"Truly?" He blinked at the two women, considering, before he remembered exactly who this woman was. Of course she would have a way to transport the wounded. "Then I suppose I should explain her condition, yes?"

She nodded, although she was already looking over the woman herself, her hands glowing green as she scanned the patient's body.

"She has suffered massive trauma—fire, from what I can tell. Very hot. Very little of her body was not burned—when she arrived her skin was black and blistering. Thankfully, she has healed somewhat externally, mostly due to herbal poultices we have used, but internally, I—I am not equipped to handle such damage."

"It _is_ extreme."

"Indeed. Her organs are failing rapidly. She has been losing kidney function for at least the past six days, and her lungs are in terrible shape. It sounds much like smoke inhalation, but it cannot be. She—usually she cannot breathe. We have taken to propping her chest up and allowing her head to lay back. It was the only way to keep her airway open. Her liver also seems to be—in the wrong position, you could say? I cannot explain it. And her pulse has been thready, very faint. I feared—truly I feared she would not make it long enough for me to call upon you."

"You have done well with what you could, houshi-sama. We are truly grateful."

He bowed his head.

"It is what I do, Unohana-sama. Unfortunately, as I have said, I cannot do much more for her. She will perish if left here. I do not wish her to be imprisoned, but it would be better that she lived."

"Imprisoned?"

"Her friends made it very clear the she was one of your—exiles, yes? I believe that is what you call them."

The graceful taichou nodded, but then the green glow left her hands and she raised herself up. "She is, but she has done us a great favor. Do not worry for her safety, houshi-sama." He nodded at her. "We are very thankful. Her uncle has been beside himself with worry over her whereabouts, as have her friends."

Unohana-sama leaned toward her assistant and whispered a command; the silver-haired woman was off like a shot, jumping to do her taichou's bidding. She returned a moment later with a stack of extra blankets and one of the few monks they had passed on the way to the infirmary.

"I'm going to have to wrap her up and transport her out to the courtyard. She will be travelling inside Minazuki."

"Inside your beast?" he asked, aghast at the idea.

"Minazuki has healing properties; she will be healing while we travel."

Once again he was in awe of the power of the healer before him.

They bundled the small, frail woman in the blankets, then the young monk and the taichou's assistant carried her out with her sword. Once in the courtyard the beast appeared as miraculously as it had earlier and swallowed the young woman, blankets and all.

The two women turned to them and bowed deeply, and the monks returned the gesture. A small, velvet bag of money was produced—the women claiming it was not payment for their services but a donation—but it was immediately handed back to the shinigami.

And they were off into the night sky.

* * *

"Psst!"

Whoever was trying to get the attention of her third seat, they really needed to stop. It was late. People were trying to sleep.

"Psst! Hey!"

Especially—her third seat! Really? It wasn't like he was known for having a large amount of female companions. He wasn't exactly a guy the girls fell over themselves for. Not that she begrudged him a girlfriend—just, this was ridiculous.

"Nanao! Wake up!"

Wait.

They were trying to get _her _attention, not her third seat's. That was different. But who would—oh.

Nanao rolled over in the bed, grumbling about having to leave the very warm spot she had created. Her bed partner mumbled something, shifting and turning to crack an eye open in her direction when she threw his large arm off of her hips.

"Finally going to see what she wants, hmm?"

She swatted at him halfheartedly before letting her feet drop the very cold wooden floor.

"Nanao! C'mon!"

"I'm coming, Isane!" she half-yelled and half-whispered, fumbling around in the dark bedroom to find the yukata she usually kept at the foot of the bed. One of them had kicked it off in the middle of the night and it was now lost on the floor. She yanked the garment up and threw it over her shoulders, ignoring the chuckling of the man in her bed. Only he would find the continual interruptions amusing. The walk to the door was cold and disheartening, especially considering the very naked man in her bed.

_It took me so many years to get him there, and now we keep getting interrupted._

She threw the sliding door open and propped herself up in the doorway, a nonverbal barrier to her friend's next question. It would inevitably be something along the lines of 'can I come in.' Her answer was definitely 'no.'

"Isane, it's two in the morning. Whatever it is could have surely waited until daylight," she said grumpily, flicking her bangs out of her face.

"No, it really couldn't. Can I come in?"

Her friend was shivering, her lips pale, but Nanao shook her head. No way was she gonna let anyone know her taichou was sharing her bed tonight. That was all she needed at the moment.

"Nanao! It's freezing out here!" Isane hissed.

"I don't care," she hissed back.

"Let the poor girl in, Nanao-chan! It's too cold out there to hold a conversation," she heard her taichou yell from her bed, and she let her head fall with a thwack against the wooden frame of the door. He had no tact. He had to have been raised by wolves. How could he be so sophisticated one moment and then—this?

The squeal would erupt in three, two, one…

"Ohmigod, Nanao!"

There it was.

Her taichou was chuckling; she knew it was over. Any privacy they had gained was gone with Isane's knowledge of their sharing a bed. The girl was sweet, but she was as bad as Matsumoto about gossip. It would be all over by noon. Even the sou-taichou would know, which would mean they would be in more trouble than the division needed right now, especially considering her taichou's already frequent troublemaking.

Isane leaned in suddenly and whispered, "Never mind then, hmm! You should have said. But, oh, darn."

"Just tell me or come in, Isane."

The tall woman shook her head.

"Get your taichou out of bed and get to the fourth as soon as you can. Go straight to Unohana-taichou's office, nowhere else. Try and keep it a secret!"

Nanao looked up, all vestiges of sleepiness and embarrassment suddenly gone. If they were being called to a private meeting in the fourth, well, something important must have happened during the night.

"What—"

"We found Minako," Isane whispered. "But I have to hurry back. If you want to see her before the sou-taichou isolates her, you better hurry, too. He'll have to be informed as soon as the sun is up."

"What?" Nanao almost shouted, immediately turning into her rooms and letting her mind rush through her morning ritual to see what could be skipped in favor of haste at the moment.

"Just hurry! I'll meet you there!"

Nanao ran back and slammed the sliding door shut then scrambled over to the dresser, grabbing a pair of hakama and whatever haori she could find to throw on. In the reflection of the large mirror hanging on the wall she could see her taichou—her lover, she realized giddily—doing the same, hurrying through throwing on the many layers he wore on a daily basis.

"Go ahead and head that way, Nanao-chan," he said as he bent to the floor to pull on his sandals and grab his sakkat. "I'm going to run and get Juu. We'll meet you there."

She threw her hair up in the most haphazard style she had ever worn, turning to grab her glasses from the table.

"Would you rather I—"

"No, I think I should be the one to do this."

They shared a look at that, and she finally realized that maybe they weren't the only ones trying to keep their private business out of everyone's minds. He sent her a lopsided, goofy grin then, and she shook her head.

With a quick kiss to his stubbly cheek, she was gone.

* * *

"Kami, Isane," Nanao said, horrified at her first glimpse of their friend.

Isane just stared at her, her expression somewhat grim.

"Nanao," she said quietly, "this is after over a week of healing and a few hours in Minazuki. Can you imagine what she must have looked like right after?"

No, she couldn't.

They had all heard about it by now, if not from Minako then from their taichou. The Eighth and Thirteenth tended to be close knit due to their taichou's close friendship, and the Tenth was included in that most of the time due to Matsumoto. Then, with Isane and Unohana-taichou's unique relationships with those very same taichou and fuku-taichou, well, everyone knew everyone's business. Secrets didn't last long unless you were very good at sneaking around.

This one hadn't been kept at all amongst their taichou. But this—this was unimaginable. The original wounds couldn't even be fathomed, at least not by someone who hadn't seen them. Truthfully, Nanao couldn't imagine anything that could be worse than the present and not fatal.

"Where is—where is Unohana-taichou?"

"She said she was going to wait for Kyouraku-taichou and Ukitake-taichou. Escort them in. I think she wants to…prepare them."

Nanao nodded. Preparation might be a damn good idea, considering. Men always seemed to take this a little harder than women. Nanao and Isane both had their own theories on why this was.

Nanao traced a wrinkle in the bed linens near Minako's hand, wanting to move and grasp it but unsure if she should or not. Not only was the woman covered in bandages, she was still extremely ill. And she really wasn't too sure Minako would appreciate it—she had never been a very affectionate person.

"You shouldn't—touch her, I mean," Isane said, her voice sorrowful. "Almost every inch of her was burned pretty badly, mostly third and fourth degree burns. Everything is probably painful and, well, there's infection to worry about."

Nanao nodded again. At least the woman would have someone here if—

"When will she wake up?"

"We don't know. The monk that was treating her, he was estimating a month, maybe more. I know from what she had told us before that this is somewhat normal."

"So long?" she asked, dismayed.

Isane just shrugged.

"And there's nothing that can be done?"

"Not that we know of. We'll keep healing her, and taichou is looking into the methods the Twelfth is using on Hinamori to see if we can alter it to help speed her recovery. That's all we know to do right now."

"What about—"

But there wasn't any time left.

The door opened quietly, Unohana-taichou appearing before them. Behind her, though, were the two taichou that Nanao both hoped and dreaded to see. It wasn't going to be a good reunion, she was sure.

She watched her lover's face as Unohana-taichou stepped to the side, allowing the men to enter the room, and she saw the shock and horror enter his eyes, saw when the truth of his former fuku-taichou's condition finally hit him. Whatever Unohana-taichou had told them, she had obviously sugarcoated it or given them a great deal more optimism than Minako's physical condition suggested was possible.

"Yare," he breathed, his entire body slumping and curving in on itself.

She resisted the urge to cross the room and comfort him, thankfully, but she almost lost all control of her emotions when Ukitake-taichou finally got a good look at the woman in the infirmary bed.

It hit him like a physical blow. She could see terror written across his face, and he almost slumped to the floor as he flinched backwards, probably would have if her taichou hadn't grabbed onto his arm and kept him standing up. His copper eyes, usually filled with kindness and laughter, were instead dull as he stared at the diminutive form in the bed. The only thing she could think at the moment was how _wrong _it was, the picture of this happy and gentle man bowed by grief. And she had had no idea, none at all that might be hiding worry for Minako underneath his calm exterior the past week. He had been agitated, but nothing too unusual, considering the battle. She should've known better.

He finally straightened, gently shaking off her taichou, and stepped toward the bed. He reached out to touch the bandaged arm closest to him but stopped suddenly, his hand in the air. She was sure that someone who had once spent so much time healing here knew better than to touch a patient in this condition.

"This is what it does?" he asked, his voice dry and scratchy.

"Unfortunately, Ukitake-san."

Unohana-taichou stepped up beside him, her own small hand coming up to rest on his arm as she pulled his hand back and away from her patient. Even if he was shrugging them off they were going to be nearby and support him, she saw, and she wondered how many people knew that he had…feelings…for the sou-taichou's niece.

"But—_Kami." _She watched as he took a deep breath. "But she'll recover?"

"It is very likely. According to what Minako-san told me, this is normal. We just have to keep healing her, help her body through the process."

"Normal? No wonder she was—" he stopped and sighed, his entire chest rising and falling with the deep exhalation.

Her taichou stepped up as well, standing on the other side of his dearest friend.

"What is the biggest problem she faces right now, Retsu-san?" he asked.

"Her lungs are in terrible shape, as are her kidneys. We've been concentrating our efforts there, as failure of either organ system will mean—"

"We know what it will mean, Retsu-san," she heard him say as if from a great distance. All of her attention was focused on Ukitake-taichou at the moment. She was the only one looking at him from this angle, and he truly looked like he was about to collapse.

"It is not all bad news, Kyouraku-san, Ukitake-san," Unohana-taichou said calmly. "Externally, she is healing well—"

"Well?" Ukitake-taichou exclaimed, his disbelief evident.

"Yes, Ukitake-san. She was much worse." Both men's heads literally snapped over to meet her even gaze. "According to the monk that was treating her, she suffered third and fourth degree burns over almost all of her body. Even her internal organs were…charred."

Both men furrowed their brows at the very descriptive word.

"How did she make it that far, Unohana-san?" he asked, his voice small and quiet even in the silence of the room.

"Apparently she had help. At least two people according to the monks. She never would have made it there on her own, I'm sure."

"She knew," he muttered.

"Hmm, Ukitake?" her taichou asked, perplexed.

The tall, pale man cleared his throat.

"She knew. She knew all along."

"Undoubtedly," Unohana-taichou said, her voice small and quiet. He was repeating himself, but no one would dare point that out.

Isane shot her taichou a look, one that she shared with the Nanao and then Kyouraku-taichou. Everyone got the hint, but no one seemed to know exactly how to extricate themselves from the room. Thankfully Unohana-taichou was used to resolving awkward situations; her calm, serene demeanor was back in place in an instant.

"Perhaps we should let Ukitake-san have a moment. The sun will be rising soon, and you'll all have to be out of here when the sou-taichou arrives."

"He can try," Ukitake-taichou muttered, and Nanao felt a brief spurt of pride at the man's mettle. If anyone could afford to go against the sou-taichou, he could.

They slowly filtered out of the room, each leaving with one last look at the patient or the man there to see her, before finally congregating down the hall in the private office Unohana-taichou kept in the Sōgō Kyuugo Tsumesho. As they all sat down to tea—Nanao wasn't sure who had been in here earlier to make it but she was thankful for it—she realized that no one seemed to feel much like talking. Everyone was silent, lost in their own thoughts or preparing for the hard day ahead.

She could only think of one thing: they were all in for a hell of a time the next few months.

And it would all start this morning, as soon as someone informed the sou-taichou that his much-beloved niece was in critical condition in his very own hospital.

* * *

A/N: Fourth degree burns are something most have never heard of, but they do exist. Usually they are only gotten in fatal fires or getting very badly burned, and you only see them in cases where over 50% of the body is burned or chemicals were used. It's relatively new as far as common medical use goes, at least according to my med student buddies. I didn't even know there was a fourth degree until a friend of mine died in a house fire.

_Sōgō Kyuugo Tsumesho_- SS hospital in Fourth Division


	22. Chapter 22

A/N: As usual, all the important information is lurking in the notes of the first two parts. From here on out we're AU, mostly at least. And this is the official beginning of the Second Arc of this story—Aizen is no longer the one we'll have to worry about. Time line is different now, too. I'll no longer use the final battle as a reference point every time. Instead, I'll just give the time that has elapsed since the previous chapter/scene/etc.

And time will be skipping rather regularly for a few chapters, so expect it to jump a lot.

Enjoy! R & R if you like!

* * *

"The Noble Sort"

* * *

"Do you tell me anything anymore?" the sou-taichou shouted at the room of officers, a vein in his wrinkled forehead throbbing from the pressure.

All he got in return were sheepish looks—and one very serene stare.

"Yama-jii—"

"No!" he said, slamming his cane down onto the tatami mat with a loud bang. "_Quiet_!"

Three taichou and two fuku-taichou watched as he inhaled and exhaled slowly, apparently repeating some sort of calming mantra. It had most likely been taught to him after the recent explosion in the First Division Headquarters over the missing haori; his temper had been burning bright for over a week now.

"Retsu, you and your fuku-taichou took off in the middle of the night—alone, I might add—to pick up a patient you knew I was searching for. You never informed my division of this. You did not inform the Second of this. You did not inform the Twelfth of this. You then proceeded to treat the patient and not inform me until this morning. Correct?"

The graceful female nodded her head slowly, her calm demeanor never slipping.

"And you, Shunsui, were found in your fuku-taichou's bed last night when you were invited to take part in the illicit activities Retsu had begun. This is after I specifically told you to quit seducing the female shinigami, to quit getting involved in matters that will only get you into trouble, to begin acting your age!"

"Hai, Yama-jii."

To give Kyouraku credit, though, he didn't look the least bit ashamed. In fact, he looked downright smug, as if the three things he had just been accused of were actually his goals in life.

"And _you—_irritating, backstabbing, useless imbecile that you are—_my own student_! You bedded my _niece_! Of all the ways to betray me, few are worse! I invited you into my home, allowed you to become part of my family, I trusted you with her safety and her happiness while she was here and you not only let her _escape_, you _slept_ with her!" He opened his eyes menacingly and leaned in, resting his right arm on his cane. "_I should burn you to a crisp where you stand, gaki_."

To give Ukitake _his_ due credit, he didn't run screaming from the room. Many males—and there had been quite a few in his position before, as Minako had not been a saint growing up—would have already done so.

"I—I," the poor sou-taichou looked almost apoplectic now, "I don't know what to do with you! You lose haori! Disobey orders! Rut your way through my female shinigami! And you three are the _oldest_, supposedly the _wisest_!"

Unfortunately, the old man seemed to just be getting warmed up. Breathing exercises, calming mantras, even soothing teas had all been abandoned in his fine fit of temper.

"And this is all on top of Central being reactivated with members I had no say in seating, Zero sniffing around documents in the library, and my own flesh and blood spinning me stories to the point that I no longer know what is up and what is down! I am out for two days—_two days to recover from battle and losing an arm_—and you all wreak havoc!"

He turned with a flourish, Sasakibe jumping out of his way at the last minute, and stalked from the room.

"What the hell is wrong with you people?"

His parting shot made the walls of the room vibrate with the boom of his voice, and the five occupants of the office stared at walls, furniture, and teacups—anything but the other occupants. For the three taichou, it had been a very long time since their leader had been truly mad. Even the Haori Incident two days ago didn't compare to this.

They were all in deep shit, and each one of them knew it.

* * *

_Five Weeks Later_

"Good day, Ami-san, Hito-san," Isane said, a smile on her face and cheer evident in her voice.

"Isane-san." "Isane-san!"

She nodded at the two guards as she passed, going to the small desk opposite the door they guarded and picking up the previous night's log sheet.

Glancing through Iemura's work quickly, she saw that everything seemed to be in order. Not that she expected any differently; it just paid to be sure. She pulled out a fresh sheet and added it to the clipboard before moving to the small viewing window in the door between the guards.

"How is our patient today? Any change?"

"No, Isane-san," Hito-san replied, a small moue of disappointment forming on his very feminine face.

She just nodded absently, taking in Minako's positioning and making the same note she had made countless times before for the hour's check log: no change. It was the most upsetting statement to have to write nowadays, although she could remember a point when such a phrase would make her happy.

She moved to desk, propping her head on her hand and pretending to be engrossed in the medical log in front of her. To be honest, she was far away, lost in her own thoughts.

Minako had been unconscious for almost seven weeks now. They had done everything they could think of to help her recovery, but nothing seemed to work. Even Urahara—who had made a special trip to Seireitei just to consult for this case—had no advice. Her body was mostly healed, he allowed, but she wasn't. It made very little sense at first, but Isane was beginning to understand it now. Urahara had walked them through the previous attempts Minako had made at bankai, explaining in detail how she would always heal physically before waking sometime later. In his mind it was her spiritual pressure that was healing now, not her body.

Usually the spiritual pressure was the first thing they healed in a patient, but they had not been the first healers to see Minako. Part of her body had healed before her spiritual pressure, therefore eating up more of it. So her body was drained of pressure and taking its time rebuilding it. Which meant she was healing more slowly than they were used to.

And it made sense. But it was frustrating for everyone here that was waiting for her to wake up.

Nanao came by every evening, usually just to read to her for a few minutes. It made her feel better and, according to a book someone in the Eighth Division had brought back from the human world, people in this state could possibly hear what was going on around them. Isane thought it was also a form of catharsis for Nanao, who was facing losing one of the few people she had been close to. Again. So Nanao read.

Kyouraku-taichou was by every few days or so, sometimes more often and sometimes only once a week. He usually brought a vase full of flowers and just sat in her room, staring morosely at the bed. Nanao had confided in Isane that he was taking this extremely hard—if Minako should die, she was afraid he would somehow feel responsible for her death. He took the safety of his subordinates very seriously, and even though Minako was no longer in his division, Nanao said he still felt like she was. She was, in his mind, still partly his responsibility. So he worried, and he showed it the only way he knew.

Yamamoto-sou-taichou visited everyday with his fuku-taichou or his personal servant. He would bring clothing, linens that he thought she would prefer, or a picture to leave in her room. She had never truly thought of their commander as a caring person, but obviously he was, especially where his family was concerned. He was still gruff, still mostly silent, but there was a crack in the hard exterior now that she could see through. He had emotions. It was a different side of her commander, one that had disturbed her at first but now gave her a warm feeling every time she saw the older man in the hallway. Even he fell prey to the normal relationships they all had.

And Ukitake-taichou rarely missed a day, usually choosing to visit early in the morning or late in the evening when no one else was around. Isane never had the heart to see what went on when he visited. He looked bad enough when he arrived, and he always looked worse when he left. She had spoken to taichou about banning him from visiting, mainly due to the toll it was taking on his own health, but Unohana-taichou had taken her old friend's side and refused to tell him to stop coming.

And there was, of course, herself. Unohana-taichou, Iemura, and herself were there every day for some amount of time, usually during a slow period in the infirmary or when they thought they had an idea to add to the very large ledger of 'maybe it would work' suggestions.

Finally, there were the guards.

They were seated officers from the First Division, handpicked by the sou-taichou himself for this duty, and they were loyal to none but him. The five rotating guards were jovial but serious, always doing their job but never mean or resentful. She was grateful for it, although she hated the fact that they were necessary.

Unfortunately, though, they were.

They had all thought they were in for a bumpy few months when Aizen was defeated and Minako first located, but they truly had no idea how bad things would be. The sou-taichou was locked in a power struggle with the newly-formed Central while trying to figure out what had truly happened to his niece, Aizen was deep underground but still causing them all sorts of trouble, and Hollow were running around the human world like mad, no longer disciplined at all now that Hueco Mundo's power structure was dismantled. And they were still down three taichou; there was not a single fuku-taichou that felt up to a promotion and no candidates had come forward to be tested.

The only good that had come from the last few weeks was the truce that had been called between the three taichou and the sou-taichou. Isane wasn't sure exactly what had happened, but they were tentatively okay at the present moment—which really only meant they were no longer being yelled at. He was still glaring somewhat fiercely when Kyouraku-taichou and Ukitake-taichou were in his general vicinity.

Now if her patient would just wake up, perhaps they could all get out of this limbo they were living in and focus on the other problems Aizen had brought on.

* * *

_Floating._

_She was floating._

_But everything was solid, which was weird—air shouldn't be solid. She couldn't breathe it, couldn't taste it, but she could feel it. _

_She wasn't dying from it, though, so she didn't worry about it. _

_The shishi was lolling in a grey zone a few meters away, his tongue hanging out and his head flopped back at a weird angle. They were able to communicate but only just, which was also disarming. She couldn't remember a time, now, when they weren't able to read each other's thoughts._

_Each day the air became even more solid, thick and viscous and opaque, surrounding her like a nasty form of clear Jell-o. She hated Jell-o. She definitely did not like the idea of being in one very large Jell-o shot, especially when there was no booze to make it a party._

_There were flashes of color, too, although they were mostly gone._

_Color was bad._

_Color was evil._

_Color was pain._

_Every once in a while there was a sparkle in the ooze that surrounded them, and they had learned early on that the sparkles were fun._

_The sparkles brought voices. The blue were Nanao, usually reading. Not that they really listened. Reading was fun, yes, but only if you actually had the book if front of you. The human contact was nice, though. And she had a pretty voice, as shishi had pointed out, at least she did when she wasn't yelling at someone.  
_

_The pink were her taichou, scents of roses and sake. If he spoke, the sparkles didn't let them hear it._

_The purple were Gen-oji-san, usually berating her and trying to ask her questions, as if the ooze would let her speak and answer him. But once, a purple sparkle had brought a definite sensation of comfort that was not made for a hospital, soft silky sheets and a decent pillow, so they continued to go after them just in case. Besides, it was like teasing him. They could hear him but he didn't know it. It was like eavesdropping.  
_

_The—lavender, maybe?—were the medical team, which they both hated and no longer touched. It had been nice to hear Isane gossiping about Nanao and Kyouraku-taichou, but getting poked in the arm was still painful even in a gelatinous bubble of goop._

_But the red ones—they were her favorite. Shishi would wheeze and run from them while she paddled through the goop to get to them. They were Ukitake-taichou, usually his voice, and they never failed to cheer her up. Most of the time he just told her what had gone on that day, or some little anecdote. Occasionally he would relate what he was writing in his children's stories. It never failed to give her a little boost, just getting to hear his voice. He talked more than he had when they were actually spending every day together.  
_

_Although…_

_She was woman enough to admit she was a bit put out. _

_The bastard—she realized this now, after having plenty of time to think about it—had gotten her to say the three little words anyone in a relationship or even considering a relationship feared and had not said them back! This was precisely what she had wanted to avoid! _

_Bitchy Minako would be coming out if she ever gained consciousness again, that was for sure. These shinigami had gone too long without a good chewing._

_Her oji-san didn't nibble on them enough, apparently._

_But the wishing sparkles—obviously not real since she wasn't anywhere near Seireitei—and thinking, and even swimming through goop could only keep you entertained so long, something Minako learned early on. Time didn't pass normally here, although she was sure it had been quite a while, and boredom was her archenemy nowadays._

"_Shishi!"_

_She sounded like the teacher from Peanuts._

_The black dog looked back at her, making a funny face._

_She tried to wave a hand at him, beckoning him to her, but it didn't work. Instead she got five shadow hands and what felt like the view from a very bad acid trip. _

_Not that she had ever done that._

_She sighed in the goop, which was always an interesting experience. And hoped she didn't remember this later._

_Altogether, though, even with the bad acid trip-like view, it was like a womb. Warm. Fluid-y. Nurturing. If she had to guess, she was overdue by at least a week._

_And her brain was melting._

_This entire in-between world she inhabited was a riddle wrapped in an enigma and loaded with craziness, and she was ready to leave it. _

_Anytime now._

_Anytime._

* * *

Iemura couldn't believe what he saw when the nineteen-hundred check came around.

Yamamoto-san hadn't moved herself in the weeks she'd been here. They had moved her, but she always rested in the position they left her in.

But now—she was on her stomach, an arm hanging off the medical bed and her pillow tossed to the ground.

The clipboard was tossed onto the desk as he ran down the hallway, eager to report the development to Unohana-taichou.

The guards just watched, smirking. They had already made their own report.

* * *

"_Minako-san."_

The gloop was gone.

This was a good thing, really, except she was incredibly tired and someone was poking her arm, moving her wrist about, and trying to wake her up. They obviously had no idea she was ill—or they just didn't care.

And something was…off. Badly.

"_Minako-san."_ Whomever it was, they were somewhat amused at her attempts to block out the light of the room she was in. _"I'm sorry, but it is time to wake up now."_

_Please, onna, tell her to shut the hell up._

She definitely agreed with him. Unfortunately, telling her to shut up meant actually having to wake up, at which point there would be questions and examinations and tons of stuff she didn't feel like dealing with right now.

She forced her body to use a large portion of the small amount of energy it had to flail her left arm about, getting the person holding her wrist to let go, and she promptly rolled over.

Ugh. Now the light was really shining behind her eyelids.

"_Minako."_

_Fuck_.

She knew that tone anywhere—oji-san.

Finally giving up the battle, she cracked an eyelid open to stare at the man standing beside the bed. He looked tired, and he was missing his left arm. But he was alive, gloriously alive, which meant he had come through the battle. She felt joy rising up in her and tamped it down; she didn't have the energy for emotion right now.

She rolled once more, this time onto her back, and squinted and blinked as the light caught her very sensitive eyes.

"I'm awake, damn it."

Unohana-taichou was there, smiling, and she finally realized what was wrong with this whole scene. Oji-san. Unohana-taichou. Unless many of the top shinigmai in Seireitei had suddenly decided a change in career was the thing for them, something had gone wrong while she was sleeping the just sleep of the ill. Which they woke her from.

"You guys aren't monks," she rasped, and she felt sure that she could cheerfully give Unohana-taichou the entire contents of her bank account for the glass of water that was brought to her lips. Her throat felt drier than a desert in August.

"Monks?" she heard her uncle ask, and she was sure he already knew what she meant. Unfortunately there was no witty reply forthcoming; thinking felt like glass shards ripping through the mush that was her brain right now.

She eyeballed the pretty healer leaning over her.

"Something stronger? _Sake_? Whiskey?"

Unohana-taichou shook her head, smiling.

"I do not believe that is wise, Minako-san. It will be days before you can even eat solid food, much less consume alcohol."

_Well, shit._

She shook her head once. She had a headache but thinking was becoming easier.

She pushed up on her very weak arms, feeling the muscle spasm and tremble, and propped herself up against whatever was behind her. She couldn't tell if it was a wall or a headboard, and she really didn't care right now. If she was gonna face down shinigami, she needed to be alert and at least appear to be somewhat physically capable. They didn't have to know she was weaker than a string bean right now.

"How did I get here?" she asked, her voice still raspy from disuse. "Last I knew Aka—someone was helping me to the monks."

"They were unable to fully treat you, Minako-san. They contacted me and I took over your treatment almost six weeks ago."

She'd probably been out a month and a half then, almost two months. Good god that was a long time, although not surprising. The transformation was the worst she had ever been through. At one point she was sure she had asked Akane to just go ahead and kill her, put her out of her misery.

But there were more pressing things to worry about.

"The—the battle?" she gasped as Unohana-taichou's reiatsu began floating through her body, examining her internal organs. Her eyes flew to her uncle. "I know he was defeated—"

"Aizen is harmless. Secured deep underground. Our casualties were amazingly minimal."

She nodded at him, but her gaze flicked to his missing arm twice before she could really allow herself to meet his gaze. The casualties might have been minimal but it looked like there were wounds that would not be healing anytime soon, if ever. And if oji-san was this badly maimed, she could only imagine some of the other shinigami that had gone in with him. Like Juushirou...

"I am alive, Minako. It is more than I thought possible."

She just nodded again. It was true; they were both sure they wouldn't live through the battle at all. The loss of his left arm was paltry in comparison to losing his life.

_Or his right arm. He's right-handed, onna._

_True._

"Was anyone—" she paused. However she said this it would sound bad, as if those who did die weren't important, but she had to know, had to ask. "Anyone I know?"

"I don't believe so," he said dryly.

She gave a sigh of relief but winced as well. It was callous of her to be so happy none of her friends had died when there were casualties that mattered; she knew it but it didn't matter at the moment.

"Well?"

She opened and closed her mouth in confusion before realizing he was no longer speaking to her.

"Everything seems to be healing very well." The reiatsu Unohana-taichou had been feeding into her body had stopped. "Her energy level is extremely low, but that will only change now that she can actually sleep and get more nourishment than the liquids we've been giving her."

"Sleep sounds like a really good idea," she said tiredly.

Unohana-taichou nodded once but her uncle, always the buzz-kill, tapped his cane on the floor.

"We have some things to discuss first." He cleared his throat. "Thank you, Retsu."

The healer didn't argue although she looked like she was two seconds from pulling out her scary face. Not even her uncle was immune, she knew, but their dynamic seemed off. Instead, the healer quietly bowed and left the room, securing the door behind her.

He sighed angrily, something only octogenarians could pull off; it was the sound of an old man getting ready to kick some misbehaving children out of his yard.

"You have a great deal of explaining to do."

_Lucy, you have some 'splaining to do!_

She fought it. Truly she did. But she felt her lips curling up into a shit-eating grin that wouldn't go away no matter what. Shishi was never, ever watching television again.

"_What_ do you find _funny_, gaki?" he said threateningly, and she allowed her hair to fell forward, hoping her hair would hide her face. It didn't happen; she could see dark brown on both sides—and fucking bangs!—but it was not nearly as long as it had been.

"_What the hell happened to my hair?_" she shrieked, immediately regretting it when her poor throat started stinging.

"Who cares?" he asked wryly, his eyes now glittering. Her smile was gone and he seemed very pleased about it. "How many lies have you told me, Minako?"

_Fuck._

She looked up at him, plastering the most innocent expression possible on her face. She knew it wouldn't work, it never did with oji-san. Usually she just looked like a guilty child, not an innocent one.

"Lies?" Her voice was the epitome of innocent naiveté, though, and she was proud of it. "I haven't lied to you at all, Gen-oji-san."

"Really."

"Why would I lie to you, oji-san?" She fluttered her eyelashes at him. But oh, this was taking more energy than she thought possible, and she was tired. "I have no reason to lie to you about anything."

"So Choujirou, my most loyal shinigami, lied to me."

_Damn it all to hell._

"I don't know what you're talking about."

He just stared at her, apparently sizing her up. Then, with two taps of his cane on the hard floor of the infirmary, Sasakibe was hurrying through the door, coming to stand next to his taichou. The poor man looked harried. But his expression immediately changed once he saw her—fear was in his eyes again and it made her sick. Like she was gonna jump out of the bed and turn into flame and burn him to a crisp.

Did he not realize she could do that with her zanpakutou?

"Do I need to have him repeat everything the traitor said?"

"You would believe Aizen before me, your _niece, _your very own _flesh _and_ blood_?" She tried to conjure some fake tears but it didn't work. She apparently didn't even have the energy to pull _that_ off.

"I believe my fuku-taichou."

"But—but it was Aizen! Did you ever think he was just trying to—"

"_Yamamoto Minako._" She cringed, her shoulders suddenly becoming very familiar with her neck. That voice still gave her the chills. "_Now._"

This was it. From here she had two choices, neither of which were very good for her future. On the one hand, she could tell him the entire truth. He would be immediately embroiled in Kami only knew what type of power struggle with Zero and she would be at fault. Or she refused to say anything about it, which meant he would be on her case until she could break out again. Unfortunately, refusal probably meant a cell and guards and lots of things to keep her from breaking out again. Or a house and guards and lots of things to keep her from breaking out again. Or being chained to him to keep her from breaking out again.

Decisions, decisions.

Eventually she sighed, letting her shoulders slump before she looked back up at him. The truth would be disastrous, but there were few options available at the moment.

"I never lied to you, Gen-oji-san. You just didn't listen, as usual."

He raised his eyebrows.

"I never said Aizen raped me, I said he was involved. I never directly said he did it, any of it—even the experiments. As a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure I told one of your lap dogs that Aizen was definitely not the one that did it." She took a deep breath. "If you chose to misinterpret what I said, that's not my fault."

"Omission is the same to me. You've known that since before you could pick up a sword."

She shrugged, shooting him a look.

"And? As if I've played by your rules. I'm an adult. I don't have to follow your rules anymore." She sucked her teeth, raising her eyebrows at the look of fury that came across his face. "I told you what you needed to know. It's what _you_ do—I learned from the best, apparently."

"You obstinate, impudent—"

"_Fuck Off, Oji-san_."

The force he suddenly exerted on the room was mind-numbing, lung-crushing, but she didn't sway. She wasn't some two-bit shinigami that couldn't handle a little reiatsu. And this—this was one of the oldest tricks in oji-san's big book of child-rearing. If he thought that was going to make her comply, well, he was wrong.

Sasakibe looked like he was ready to jump between the two of them and break up any potential fight, but she wasn't going to let it disintegrate that far. She twisted in the bed, swinging her legs over the side even as he continued leaking reiatsu all over the place.

"When can I leave?" she asked dryly, moving to stand.

She never got to.

His remaining arm dropped his cane and came crashing down onto her left shoulder, smashing her into the gurney and holding her stationary. His grip was tight and bruising; she wasn't going anywhere at the moment.

"You don't get to leave."

"Oh?" She looked up at him, her anger evident. "Are Urahara and Yoruichi here, too? Shinji? Lisa? Have they all been confined? If so, then take me to them. If not, I assume you let them go after the fight. If they get to be free, so do I."

"You will not be leaving this room." She felt him slowly reign in his reiatsu as he pushed her backwards and sideways, obviously trying to get her back on the gurney. "I have guards outside. You're not leaving until we get to the bottom of this."

She shrieked and flung her arm at his, knocking his hand off her shoulder.

"I can't talk to you when you get like this—you won't listen to reason!" She threw her arms up into the air as she settled back down on the gurney. She probably looked like a pouting child, but she didn't care too much at the moment. "Whatever. I'm done. I'm going to get some sleep. I would appreciate it if you'd leave."

She saw a weird expression come over his face out of the corner of her eye, but continued pouting. He had called his cane back to him—that had always amazed her—and was now leaning on it, staring her down.

"My lap dogs, hm?" He smirked. She felt her very soul grow cold; oji-san smirking was never, ever good. People usually died. As a child, it had been enough the first time to throw her into hysterics. "How could you possibly think it was a good idea to sleep with one of my students?"

_Fuuuuck._

_Nicely said, onna. You're toast._

"How do you—never mind." She let her head fall into her hands. "I'm NOT discussing my sex life with you."

"Do you have so little integrity? You'll chew that boy up and spit him out." A forbidding look came over his face. "I won't allow you to turn him into one of your _conquests_, Minako. Leave him alone."

"Yes, because I couldn't possibly care about him," she said, her voice literally dripping with sarcasm. "He's a big boy, Gen-oji-san. All grown up. He can make his own decisions. He hasn't needed you to hold his hands for a thousand years now."

"Leave him alone."

"What about me? Do I warrant any concern?"

"Minako. You will heed my order and _leave him alone."_

A light bulb suddenly burned bright in her head. Oji-san was incredibly protective of his students. They were like sons to him, almost closer to him than she was. He would do anything for them, including, perhaps, make a deal with her.

It would mean that whatever she had found with the pale taichou of the Thirteenth Division would be over, but her emotions had to take a backseat in this. More was at stake than her love life here. Her freedom, hell, her very life could be in danger if she didn't play this right. She gave him a considering look. If she bargained right, she could get out of here. She would give him up to keep her uncle safe, she knew she would. And in the end she'd also be keeping him safe; he would follow Oji-san wherever he went. Ultimately, that mattered more than trying to have a relationship with him.

Besides, she had told him her feelings but not once in the one night they had shared had he ever given her evidence that he reciprocated. He had said he cared—that could mean anything. People cared about people all the time without actually—she could barely even _think_ the word—_loving_ them. He was going into battle; he could have wanted one last good night before it. She really had no idea what had motivated him.

They hadn't really talked a lot that night.

_Oh- you are so deep in denial it's not even funny any—_

_Shut it, Hidaruma._

"I'll leave him alone. Won't see him again, if you want. I'll even connect some of the dots—I know you're wondering about what I left you." He looked happy, nodding at her as his eyes slipped closed again. "But you have to let me go."

And there they were again.

"What?" he said, his voice soft and low and dangerous.

"Let me go. I have someone you can call to take me home." She raised her eyebrows, smirking at him. "And I'll never touch your _precious_ Ukitake-taichou _again_. You get everything you want and I get to leave."

"If you do this—"

"I know; I won't be coming back. But I won't end up on the chopping block either. If I stay my life expectancy can be measured in _days _when they find out I'm here and alive and not being followed by taichou every minute of the day."

She crossed her arms, leaning back on the bed and staring at him as he shot her a weird look.

"Very well."

"You'll drop all of this? Let me go? All of it—if I promise to leave him alone?" she asked, disbelieving.

He nodded once.

_In for a penny…_

"I promise."

…_in for a pound._

"You'll be gone before the afternoon is up."

* * *

A/N: For those of you who hate to read between the lines, there is obviously more going on here than just an argument about her having screwed Ukitake. It will all come out later, I promise. Until then you can ponder what they're really talking about; there are hints in there!

And R & R!


	23. Chapter 23

A/N: As usual, all the important information is lurking in the notes of the first two parts. From here on out we're AU.

And I apologize for being late on the update; tis' the season to be busy, guys, and on top of it all I'm moving across the US in January. Lots to take care of. I'm hoping to start posting weekly now, though, so I can get everything finished and posted before I move.

Enjoy!

* * *

"The Noble Sort"

* * *

_Three Years Later_

"Is that the last of them?" she asked, panting.

"I think so," Akane replied, her own voice harsh and stressed due to the battle they had just fought.

_Thank the Kami._

"They're getting stronger every day. This is unbelievable."

"If the fucking shinigami would do their jobs, this wouldn't be an issue."

She shot Akane a look.

"You know better. There's no way they could handle this volume." Minako wiped the sweat from her brow; fighting hollows was tough work—she had taken down the Menos and left the regulars to Akane. "They don't have nearly the manpower needed to handle this."

"Where are they coming from?" the redhead whined, and Minako fought the urge to smack her on the back of the head. "And why are we fighting them?"

"No clue," she spat back, turning on her heel and striding over to the shade provided by the small forest of trees to her right. "And we fight them because I say we do."

Hollows were a huge problem lately. It had been bad ever since Aizen was defeated—with his fall there was no organization in Hueco Mundo, just chaos—but it had been really bad the last few months. The shinigami weren't able to really keep up with the frequent hollow attacks, so many of the exiles and defected shinigami began stepping in, taking out any that got too close to them.

They had no choice; hollows were everywhere, even in their own neighborhoods.

She didn't really mind, though. It was a welcome distraction from the shithole that her life had become. In the years since the battle with Aizen she had lost her friends, her job, her apartment—everything. All because of her uncle.

The hollows were at easy outlet for her anger.

It had all started surreptitiously; he made sure that there was no way she could renege on her end of the deal. First Urahara and Yoruichi were given exemplary status—they were effectively reinstated but stationed in the real world, allowed to do whatever they wanted in return for helping the shinigami out and being a living-world base of operations for them when they visited.

She understood their acceptance of the deal; with Central reformed it was necessary. And it was what they had already been doing. With the hollow problem, they both most likely saw it as something they had to do to protect the human realm.

She never blamed them.

But it wasn't like she could exactly waltz up to their door now like she used to, either. That avenue had been taken away from her completely.

The Visoreds fell off of the map shortly after Aizen's defeat—no one had spoken to them since they received word that Hiyori was recovering and would live. Even Lisa was lost to her. Yet again, she understood. They were not offered any deal by Central and were trying to protect themselves. If she had been told correctly, her uncle had even helped them hide from Central's prying eyes.

They had completed their self-given mission: Aizen was repaid in full. They had no reason to involve themselves in the affairs of shinigami any longer. Especially shinigami that had to listen to Central, which still seemed to think they were too dangerous to live.

And the friends she had in Seireitei—they were just gone. She would most likely never see them again, she knew, not now.

She had lost her job due to her uncle's capture of her three years ago. It was a good job, too, even if she had hated it. Now she was back to the oldest trick in the book: bartending. Her apartment was lost at the same time as her job. She couldn't afford the rent on top of her caring for the house. So now she had only one home and no fall back, no hideout.

She was alone, out on her own. It was what she had promised him—he could tell everyone she had died that day and she would make sure to stay as hidden as possible while trying to fulfill the last mission he ever gave her.

"You think that's the last of 'em? I'd like to head home."

She looked over at the redhead sprawled out on the grass.

"Me, too," Minako said dryly. "I've got to be at work in four hours and I feel like I need a nap first. And a very long shower."

"A nap sounds like heaven right now."

"No shower? I'm sure you stink."

Akane pitched a clump of grass at her that fell far short of the mark.

"I think we're done here. Go on home. I'll see you tomorrow, I'm sure."

They both waved lazily, too tired to put in any real effort, before slipping into the trees surrounding the park and heading in separate directions.

The only good thing to have come out of the last few years was Akane.

Akane had always looked up to her, she knew that. But before it was like she was a distant aunt, one to revere but never come too close to. Maybe even the Rosetta stone to living on the lam—the one to teach her how to be free without getting caught by shinigami. Now, Akane was around all the time. She had become her protégé, really. She had been teaching the young woman everything she knew, preparing her for whatever might come next with Central.

Minako had to give up everything she knew and Akane, for some reason, had come along with her. It kept them from being lonely.

Anything that kept the loneliness at bay was welcome nowadays.

* * *

"Sir! The group of hollows has been destroyed!"

Kurotsuchi-taichou looked at the screens monitoring the soul wavelengths of the area in front of him. Minami was right; where there had been a small horde of hollows in the small city park not three minutes ago, they were gone now.

He quickly switched to a visual but there was nothing but a peaceful park on a sunny afternoon. No hollows, no shinigami.

"Do you know where they went? Did they jump locations, you fool?" he hissed, sure his ignorant subordinate had screwed up somewhere. This would be the fifth time they had put in an order to have a group go to the human realm to dispatch hollows only to have to call them back.

"No, sir. No jumping. They're gone." The woman picked up the printout and handed it over to him, printing at two very fuzzy beacons on line thirty-three. "Two reiatsu came in—none I recognized—and then they were just…gone."

"That's a shinigami wavelength," he muttered, looking closely. He knew this person, he was sure of it. It was on the tip of his tongue.

"If so, sir, we didn't dispatch them there. We actually had to send the order for this group to another group already deployed; there's too many of them popping in at once. It was either one of our stationed shinigami or one of the exiles."

_Exiles._

"Never mind," he said absently, waving his hand at her and stuffing the printout in his haori pocket. "I know who it was."

_Minako._

His lips curved upward in an insane caricature of a smile.

_How interesting._

* * *

"There's no way," Yoruichi hissed, jerking his arm down from in front of her face. The printout didn't mean anything to her.

"Look, though. These aren't random movements. It seems like it, but they can't be." Urahara waved the sheet in front of her and her shorter cousin again. "The time intervals are too perfect—they're sequenced."

"Boss's right," Tessai said, barely looking up from the gadget he was trying to repair at the table.

"What would you know about it?" she asked, her disbelief evident. "You haven't gone out and fought them. You never leave the store!" She kicked the table, upsetting the pieces he had removed from the gadget.

"Hollows don't think like that," he said, his voice firm and unwavering.

"The Arrancar did. The Espada did. Even the Menos do."

"But Yoruichi," Urahara interrupted, "you know as well as I that they are on a different level from the standard hollow. Very few of _them _are capable of planning. I'm not sure if they can even count, much less tell time!"

"Yes, because we've never seen a hollow smarter than they should be."

"For once," Soifon said haltingly, "I'm inclined to believe them, Yoruichi-sama. Hollows don't move like this. This is too advanced for them."

"The Menos—"

"Can plan, yes. But they rarely lead the weaker hollows like this and you know it."

Yoruichi glared at the shorter taichou of the Second Division, her arms crossed over her chest.

"You expect me to march in front of the sou-taichou and tell him that hollows are not popping into the human realm on their own, that someone is _planning_ this—"

"Ah, Yoruichi," Urahara said, scratching his head through his hat, "I never said there was someone behind it."

The dark-skinned woman sent her lover a scathing glare.

"That's what you just said, actually."

"No, no—look, Yoruichi, I'm just saying this isn't random. Something tells me," he stopped, looking down, and everyone held their breath. They all knew him well enough by now to know his personality was about to alter drastically, which meant whatever he said next was vitally important. "Something tells me the hollow are still leaving Hueco Mundo randomly."

"Which means what?" the younger Shihōin asked, almost afraid to know the answer.

His eyes glittered.

"Which means someone made a very large _mistake._"

* * *

"_Report!"_

The nine taichou in front of him snapped to attention, each standing straight and tall and staring forward. With the chaos that reigned after Aizen's fall, this had become a natural part of their evening. No one was exempt without a damn good reason.

As always—they were constantly overtired and ready to head to their own quarters for some well-deserved rest—they were quick and to the point.

"Three of my teams have been left in the human realm overnight, sou-taichou. All day teams returned with minor injuries," Histugaya stated in his calm, level voice.

"My teams are prepared to leave at dawn with the Fifth Division's tracking unit, sou-taichou," Komamura said, his voice booming in the room.

Byakuya, next in line, raised his head and reported without stepping out of his normal spot.

"The Sixth Division is prepared for the Hueco Mundo mission tomorrow. As are," he spared a glance for tall taichou of the Eleventh standing beside him, "the accompanying teams of the Eleventh Division."

Zaraki just snorted and nodded, apparently happy with the report of his division that had already been given.

"We are not scheduled for anything until the weekend, Yama-jii," Kyouraku stated gaily, his teasing smile evident under his sakkat.

Soi fon stepped up next, almost nervous. It had been quite some time since she had to brave the sou-taichou's wrath in this manner.

"Second Division is prepared at all times—but I did receive some information today that I believe we need to discuss." Everyone perked up, intrigued. "Urahara-san and Yoruichi-sama have some…unsettling information for us pertaining to the recent influx of mass hollow attacks."

The sou-taichou grunted.

"Urahara-san believes there is no possible way the attacks are random." As one or two of the assembled taichou began muttering, she cleared her throat and continued. "He says there is evidence that they are…timed, sir."

"Timed?" Kyouraku asked, his disbelief evident.

"You would have to speak to him—I don't truly understand how he figured it out. Apparently there is something wrong with what he termed the 'intermediary medium.' He said the hollows are leaving Hueco Mundo randomly, as normal, but appearing in the human realm in timed sequential intervals."

"Give whatever you have to Kurotsuchi-taichou," the sou-taichou muttered, not even cracking open an eye at the news.

She nodded, bowed slightly, and quickly moved back to her position. But the damage was done—everyone was speaking low tones to their neighbors, discussing the information. Hopefully their gamble paid off and everyone was a bit quicker to think it over since she had given him the information and not Yoruichi.

"Ah, well," Ukitake-taichou said, scratching right above his left ear, "we're on standby, but we haven't been called out. We're not on rotation for several days. The Ninth is on standby as well, although they aren't prepared to go into the human realm. The paperwork has kept them a little busy."

Everyone nodded. The massive amount of paperwork generated by the current situation was something they could all understand.

A somewhat short, stout man stepped forward. He looked middle-aged, but the scars crisscrossing his arms and neck showed that, while small and older than many in the room, he was quite the fighter.

"Third Division currently has over half of the division in the in-between space, sou-taichou."

"And the support divisions?" the sou-taichou asked.

"The Fourth Division is fully prepared, sou-taichou. We have not yet received an influx of casualties that tested our numbers."

"The Twelfth," Kurotsuchi said, examining his fingernails, "has surveillance set up in Hueco Mundo, the in-between, and in the human realm. We are targeting the areas that the hollows continue to return to."

He looked up at the sou-taichou, a nasty grin on his face.

"But we also had our own little surprise today. We followed a horde of hollows through surveillance, and, as we have seen before, they were gone before we could get a group dispatched to the location."

"And that's a problem, Kurotsuchi?" Zaraki asked dryly.

"Not really. But the two little helpers we caught might be." Everyone's eyes shot to his. "We have stragglers. Most likely a pair of exiles or defects, hollows getting too close to home." He locked eyes with the sou-taichou, who now had one eye very slightly cracked open. "Or maybe not."

"_Dismissed,"_ the sou-taichou hissed, and while many wanted to stay and discuss the matter they all turned to flee. "Not you, Kurotsuchi." As they all fled the powerful temper of their leader, they glanced at the man still standing in the middle of the room, grinning like a fool.

* * *

Deep underground beneath Central, two men held a somewhat stilted conversation. One was currently contained in a cell so protected, so bordered with layered kidō that his touching the walls just might blow him to pieces. The other, a handsome man in his middle age with grey hair, was outside the cell looking in through the very small window in the door.

"You've created quite the mess," he said, his tone acerbic as he picked a piece of imaginary lint off his peculiar silver haori.

Few in Seireitei had ever seen such a haori.

Seeing it was usually accompanied by a swift death or the offer of an involuntary promotion. The only others to have seen such clothing and lived were very high up in the dictatorial structure of the Gōtei 13, and even then they rarely understood exactly what it meant until the person had explained it to them.

"But it's not my mess. I would be _honored_ otherwise, fuku-taichou."

The man strapped to the chair with only his face and hands visible smiled as he watched his visitor straighten the small tag at his waist.

"As a matter of fact, _fuku_-_taichou_, I believe it is _your_ mistake, not mine."

The man straightened, pulling a shimmering cloak around himself. He was almost immediately undetectable, and Aizen longed to know exactly how they had created the spelled items.

"But you started it all. It was supposed to take you and your..associates…exactly where we wanted." The fuku-taichou's eyes were visible for just a moment before he blinked entirely out of existence, his words hanging in the dead, stale air of the prison. "You started it. And you will be the end of it."

Aizen smiled.

If Zero was involved, the Gōtei 13 had much larger problems than one immortal traitor sitting in their underground dungeon. Things would most likely get very interesting soon—thankfully the gossip tended to make it even this far down.

* * *

_Two Days Later_

"Something doesn't make sense here," Minako muttered, staring at the paper-covered wall.

She sipped at the hot tea in her mug, eyes quickly scanning the hundreds of sheets of paper tacked to her dining room wall. It was there, she was sure, but she couldn't see it. No doubt if she had help, she would notice it—but that was impossible.

"Akane!" she shouted, her voice reverberating through the small home.

The redhead came bounding into the room, the early morning sunlight making her red hair shine like a neon halo.

"Tell me again precisely what he said."

The girl huffed, flouncing over to the dining room table and throwing herself into one of the upholstered chairs.

"He said that it came from Urahara. Something about sequential timing and intermediary mediums." Akane toyed with a small stack of papers on the table in front of her, rearranging them and lining all the edges up neatly. "And that we were cutting it a little close if they were able to pick up our wavelengths. He thinks Kurotsuchi-taichou knows. Actually, he's pretty sure Kurotsuchi-taichou knows, and he was really pissed off about it."

"It doesn't make any sense," she muttered again, shaking her head and squinting at the newest printout added to her collection. "And Mayuri won't say shit, he knows better."

"What doesn't make sense?"

Minako shot her a look over her shoulder.

"What?" Akane said, her tone and posture defensive.

"Suddenly become an expert on formulaic transdimensional physics, have you?" she asked dryly. "I didn't think you liked math—or science, literature, law…I'll be sure to remember your part in this when we finally take the bastards down."

"_That's_ what this is? Physics?" She scoffed. "You sucked at science in college, Minako. You should know better."

"What do _you_ think, shishi?"

_I think you need sleep, onna. And math sucks. _He yawned loudly. _Other than that, I am content to laze about. _

She sighed, turning from the wall and crossing to slump down against the table.

"Was he any help, then?"

She spared a glance for the black dog sunning in front of the window and snorted.

"Never is," she said into her mug. It was _there._ She just kept letting herself get caught up in the numbers and the science and she wasn't seeing it.

"So, what are you lookin' for, anyway?" Akane asked, her finger trailing circles over the wood to the side of the numerous stacks of paper covering the table.

Minako snorted again.

"You never know. Maybe if you two didn't keep everyone in the dark all the time you could get something done for once."

"Oh, Akane," she said, her voice suddenly full of a bitter and teasingly cynical laughter. "There are some things in this world it is better you not know about."

"Like this?" the redhead said as she waved her hand nonchalantly at the paper-covered wall.

"Like this," Minako agreed.

"You could tell me, you know," the redhead grumbled. "It's not like I'm gonna run off and suddenly make tons of shinigami friends to rat you out to."

"Stick around long enough and you'll find out the hard way."

It was a dark promise, almost a threat. But it didn't faze her protégé in the least. The girl sat up straighter in her chair, literally bouncing and vibrating with overflowing excitement.

"Will there be fighting?" she asked the anticipation in her voice clear.

"Most definitely," Minako replied dryly.

"And the guys we'll tear up, this'll lead us to them?"

Minako nodded, amused at her protégé's obvious excitement over the idea of finally getting to run a shinigami through. Although, it really shouldn't have come as a surprise; Akane had been waiting over twenty years to get to take her anger out on one of them. Minako was sure that there were men in business suits that feared the little redheaded spitfire—anyone in all black tended to draw her ire.

Except Sasakibe, although Minako thought that was more due to the fact that she saw him regularly, not him being the exemption to the rule.

"Well, then, what are you looking for?"

Minako looked at her, considering. The girl wasn't smart enough to understand any of this. She was sweet, and she would be a powerful fighter one day—_would have, at least, had she not left Seireitei so early_—but she was no upper level strategist. She wasn't a problem solver, she was a grunt, a soldier.

But it couldn't hurt, either. Give her a taste and let her chew on it—it might be enough to get her out of her hair for the time being.

Minako waved her free hand at the paper on the wall.

"All of these are wavelength printouts of dimension jumps. You know what that is?" She snorted at her 'pupil's' look of complete ignorance. "A dimension jump—leaving one realm for another. Some are from Hueco Mundo, some from the in-between, and some from the human realm. Separately, they aren't important. But somewhere here," she paused, licking her lips, "somewhere there's a _mistake._ Something different."

"How different?"

"I don't know."

"Like big different or little different?"

"I really don't know."

Akane glanced at the wall, her gaze that of a dunce trying to understand quantum mechanics.

"Well…"

"Yes, my little Nobel Prize Laureate?" Minako grinned as she said it, hiding behind her steaming mug.

"Will you know what it is once you find it, or do you have to know what it is to find it?"

Minako blinked. It was wordy and hard to understand, but it was actually a damn decent question. She hadn't thought Akane had it in her, not really. The girl had barely scraped through the general education that the academy made you have before graduation. And university in the human realm—well, they saw early on that would be a bust.

"I believe I have to find it, then I will know what it is."

"Well, then you're the idiot." Minako felt a brief moment of anger before the shock of what she was seeing finally hit her. "Good god, Minako, you really do suck at science."

She slammed her mug down on the table and raced to the printout Akane was pointing at. It was a small piece, one of the earlier hordes that she had rarely paid attention to. For that reason it had been shifted further to the left and further to the left, out of the center. She hadn't even noticed it.

"How?" she breathed, staring at her protégé in shock.

"Step back and look at it, idiot. The number line looks totally different." Akane pulled her back, past the table, fighting off the smack Minako sent toward the back of her head. "Look at the whole thing. See it now?"

Minako nodded absently.

"It doesn't match the others. Throws the whole thing off, really." Akane tapped two other pieces on the wall. "See—where it pops up the pattern is thrown off."

She zoomed back across the room, jerking the small piece of paper from the pin holding it to the wall. Even shishi was interested, now, sitting up and watching her every movement.

"Dear Kami," she said, her voice almost too low to hear. "It's been there all this time."

"So do you know what it is now? Can we go kick somebody's ass?"

She nodded her head, her face still showing the shock she felt. But there was dread bubbling up in her stomach, a large gaping pit where her center had once been.

This was _bad_.

"_Fuuuuck_," she hissed, hurriedly grabbing a pen and clean sheet of paper. She sketched out the quickest note she could explaining it and threw the note and the piece of printout into one of the plain envelopes scattered about the table.

She handed it to Akane, literally shoving it into the girl's hands and pushing her bodily out of the room.

"You know the drill! Go!"

"B—but Minako!" she cried, trying to twist as the woman pushed her through the kitchen to the back door. "It's daylight!"

"Use that stealth you're so proud of! Go!"

"I won't even get close to him right now!" she exclaimed, terror written on her face.

"You _have _to! I can't or I would do it myself!"

She pushed the redhead out of the house, slamming the door behind her.

She heard Akane's unsteady steps and profane muttering as she clomped across the yard but ignored it. Sinking down the white wooden door, she let her head bounce and come to rest against it.

_All this time._

It had been right in front of their noses since the beginning and it took Akane to find it. Talk about irony. The one shinigami she didn't think had two brain cells to rub together was able to pull off what some of the greatest shinigami scientists hadn't. All because it didn't match the fucking pattern.

The giant black dog trotted into the room, coming to rest in front of her. His golden eyes gleamed in the morning light, and his head titled slightly as he stared at her.

_Told you she was worth it, onna._


	24. Chapter 24

A/N: Look for the next update Monday or Tuesday of next week. Every week from here on out instead of every two weeks like normal.

Enjoy!

* * *

"The Noble Sort"

* * *

It was a quiet, sunny morning, and it was still early enough that very few shinigami were up and out of their own divisions. It was his preferred time of day—there was no one to see him enter the Yamamoto family residence.

He only went on days he knew his sensei had stayed in his barracks, which was becoming more and more common lately. Although the old man seemed to always make sure he was in his ancestral home on Sundays. No one could blame him for that; it was the one day they truly had off of work.

He crossed the grassy yard, sticking closer to the wall than most visitors would, and rounded the pond and the branch home before approaching a spacious walled-in area that made up the Yamamoto family's ancestral shrine.

The family had never been large; there were only about nine memorial stones in the serene space.

The newest—and therefore the one closest to the entrance—was his destination. The stone was smooth marble, polished to a shine except for where the name of the deceased had been carved in memoriam.

_Yamamoto Minako._

It was all it read. Many of the stones in Seireitei would give rank, division number, some even gave dates of birth and death. This was not done in the Yamamoto family; just having the last name meant you had achieved a high rank and someone, somewhere, knew exactly how well you had done in your life here.

He came to a stop before the stone, bowing at the waist before sinking gracefully to kneel before the only memorial of the woman that could be found.

He never brought anything—incense seemed too formal and flowers would only make his comings and goings that much more suspicious. Besides, having known the woman as he did, he was pretty sure she wouldn't have cared for it. She would have bemoaned his wasting resources or laughed at such an emotionally revealing action. Only once had he dared to put anything near the headstone, and that had been in the first week of its existence. No one had the temerity to question him then.

He swept his white bangs out of his face before using his hand to trace the kanji carved into the cold stone.

Hers was not the first grave he had visited. There were numerous others before her, many of which rested in his division's own memorial plot. And where he had stopped visiting most of them not too long after their deaths—it did no good to dwell on the past, especially in this manner—he had never been able to stop himself from visiting hers. She and Kaien were the only ones he visited now.

He had his own theories on why this was—regrets, recriminations, self-loathing at not having been able to save them—but in the end it boiled down to the fact that they had been closer to him than the others. He mourned each loss, but these two were special.

He sighed, shifting backwards.

There were many things left unsaid, most of which he could have at least been brave enough to say when he sat by her bedside nightly, hoping she would wake up and come back to them. Instead, he had been cowardly, foolish enough to believe there would be time for it later. After everything he had told his subordinates about making sure everything was said before going into battle, he had made that very mistake.

And she had died. According to sensei, she had known she would.

He spent the first week after her death being angry. She could have told him, could have warned him. Then, when Shunsui finally broke from the weight of having now two fuku-taichou that had died and one he would never see again, he had snapped out of it to help his friend. There was some anger now, yes, but he understood her motives and, if he really thought about it, realized she had warned him in her own way.

He could have died, too. He couldn't blame her for wanting to spend her last night happy.

By the time sensei had set the stone he was just weary of the situation, upset that once again life had kicked him while he was down. He couldn't continue to blame her, so he just mourned her. It made more sense that way.

His ears twitched; there were chimes in the distance.

He stood, brushing off any unseen dirt from his haori and hakama, before bowing once again to the stone and turning to leave the Yamamoto family memorial. His third seats would be up soon and he would have no choice but to be ready when they met him at the office.

He made it halfway to the gate that divided the property from the rest of Seireitei before he realized he wasn't alone.

Stepping into the shadows of the high wall, he scanned the grassy yard in front of him, the sides of the two homes sitting in state amongst the pond and trees. There was no one immediately visible, but—there. On the other side of the pond.

A young woman—more a girl, really, most likely the equivalent of an older teenager—was flitting through the trees. She was heading east, away from the Yamamoto main house; he couldn't tell what she was saying but he could see her lips moving.

She was little more than a shadow crossing the land, not really acting suspicious, but her clothing was definitely _not _normal. If it wasn't for the human clothing he would have thought her another clerk or messenger of the First Division, mistaken about her taichou's whereabouts.

And she didn't match any description of Urahara's group that he knew of.

He felt the urge to follow her, find out what an intruder was doing wandering about the Yamamoto lands, but he stopped himself. She had left the house without incident. Hikaru-san not only knew the girl was there but had not sent up an alarm, had not tried to alert anyone to her presence.

His eyes lit up with mischievous joy. He loved a good mystery as much as Shunsui did.

Anything to take his mind off things.

* * *

"Pre—preposterous!"

Sou-taichou Yamamoto Genryuusai Shigekuni sighed and leaned back into the chair behind his desk. His upset fuku-taichou was pacing in front of him. His unexpected visitor was perched warily on the large balcony of his office, ready to run at the slightest provocation.

"You have the evidence in your hand, Choujirou. With what we have learned of Nishiori, this should not surprise you."

"But, taichou!" he exclaimed, his hands waving in an uncharacteristic bout of frenzied tension. "It's one thing for them to have done this from _Central_, another from _Zero_!"

"If it makes you feel any better, shinigami, she agrees with Urahara. It wasn't_ totally _intentional," Akane said, her voice only slightly mocking.

The fuku-taichou stopped his uncharacteristic pacing, his shoulders slumping as his entire form sagged downwards.

"And Minako-sama thinks this is enough to trace them?"

"We already have three names, right? Nishiori, Ichimaru, and Rashogen. Ichimaru's dead, which leaves only three bodies to take care of."

Neither man was exactly thrilled with the way the girl phrased that.

"And the last one—he's the wild card. He's the link inside Zero." Akane stood, brushing her short red hair behind one of her ears. "Minako thinks they would have used his access code to put it in place. And, most likely, he also recommended both of them for promotions to Zero—how else would they have moved from Central to Zero? It's rare, right?"

The sou-taichou nodded, surprised that the girl had been able to pick up so much from just being their messenger. Minako had been so sure she was an ignorant child—perhaps his niece had underestimated her little protégé.

"What does Minako want?" he asked dryly.

"The last name. You have to get it for her—it's not like she can waltz into your library or vaults, you know."

The sou-taichou tapped a very large, very thick stack of papers bundled at the right of his desk.

"It's in here, somewhere. Choujirou has gathered every bit of information we have on Zero, including their access codes and when they have been used inside Seireitei." His chest shook with silent laughter at the girl's expression of disbelief. "I knew she would ask for them at some point."

Akane just nodded.

"But this—Akane-san, this will at least allow us to begin fixing the hollow problem in the human world." The fuku-taichou paused, an uncomfortable expression of regret crossing his face. "Will you give Minako-sama my thanks? If we can fix this, she'll have saved me a great deal of work, not to mention the shinigami she might have saved."

The redhead waved nonchalantly.

"It's not like she did much anyway, at least that's what she says." She gave the man a dark look. "She's just in it to take 'em out—she owes them one."

The sou-taichou let his eyes slip closed; he didn't want anyone to know exactly how little the fact that his niece was going to murder three Zero members bothered him. He was, after all, the leader of the Gōtei 13—he was supposed to care when laws were being broken. And he would have, but they were akin to Aizen in his eyes—they had broken the laws he upheld long before Minako. Her actions now were akin to him giving the Onmitsukidō an assassination order.

At least in his eyes.

"She also wanted to know how things were going with Central. Would've left it till Sunday, but there's no reason to come back so soon, is there?"

"I control Central now. There is no reason for Minako to fear a backlash once it is done if she is found out. There might be a period of questioning…"

Akane's eyes gleamed. One more thing in their favor. It would be greatly needed if they actually managed to pull this off.

"So we're go, then? And after—"

"Finish it. Quickly, if possible; the strain is getting to my taichou. I'll deal with the aftermath and Zero's taichou."

Akane nodded sharply.

"And us?"

He opened his eyes again, the full weight of his stare resting on the young girl.

"Do you believe I would allow you to languish after you have done that which I could not?" he asked, disdain dripping from his booming voice. "Tell my niece I have learned my lesson. You will both be free—whatever that means for you."

She nodded again, but there was a peculiar look in her eyes. He raised one fuzzy eyebrow, a silent inquiry as to what she was thinking.

She had been doing this too long if she was able to read the sou-taichou.

"Have you ever just asked her—straight up asked her—what she wanted?"

Both men just stared at her.

"Look," she began uncomfortably, "I'll follow Minako through whatever she does. But I think you should _ask_ her what she wants. You might be surprised."

"You believe she would return—" the sou-taichou began before a very loud, insistent knock at his office's large doors interrupted him. Both men shot the woman a look.

"I know, I know."

The girl stepped forward slowly, reaching for the hell butterfly that flitted into the room.

"Just think about it."

Akane was through the door and gone from the room before the taichou outside were even able to realize a door had been opened in their commander's office.

* * *

_Four Days Later_

"Are you sure about this, Minako?"

She shot the redhead a glare.

"Seriously. I really don't think you should do this alone." Akane nibbled on the side of a fingernail. "They're all former taichou, right? How strong are they gonna be?"

"It's one, actually, and are you worried about me?" she asked teasingly. "I promise I can take him."

"But—" Akane surveyed the area they had set up in, only five miles from what they now knew would be the entry point of Rashogen Jin when he came to get the localized Zero reports. He always entered and exited from the very same spot—stupid for someone of his caliber. "I just don't know, Minako."

Minako stood up, stretching as she did so, and ruffled the younger woman's hair.

"I'll be fine. You just be prepared to get us the hell out of here in a hurry. I can't call the damn butterflies and his squad will realize something's up pretty quickly."

Akane nodded, switching to another nail. By the time this was done they would all be gone.

What was worse was that, only a few days earlier, she had been so happy to finally get to see some real fighting against a shinigami. But Zero—that was a different matter entirely.

"It's almost showtime. Get low and stay there until you get my signal."

The redhead crouched behind a bush, all her attention obviously on any reiatsu fluctuations in the vicinity of the clearing her sensei was headed toward.

Minako shot off into the afternoon sun, her shadow blending with those cast by the trees she was using as camouflage. As the trees rushed by she did the same, channeling her mental focus into the detecting the exact moment the Zero member flickered into existence.

Akane had brought back more information than she had needed to pull everything off, but it was always better to have too much rather than too little. They had easily picked Rashogen as their first target due to the ease of catching him. If the man was truly Zero caliber, she was quickly rethinking her childhood adoration of the elite division members. His movements were predictable for anyone that got his access codes, a stupid move to make with his past.

But there was always the fact that he had gotten the promotion the dirty way, and it wasn't like Zero had been called into battle in centuries. The last time they had come out was before she was born—most of the time they were on special missions, not fighting. And his squad was performing surveillance on a small village outside Rukongai, the perfect place to get him.

He wouldn't be making his reports tonight, that was for sure.

She stopped her shunpo right outside the small clearing Rashogen was using as his door area, perching in a tree in the opposite direction of the village.

Hopefully he could be caught off guard. The man was already making stupid mistakes; one more wouldn't surprise her. If not, though, she wasn't above fighting it out. The only thing anyone could see that could possibly identify her would be her eyes, and it wasn't like she was the only person in the spirit realms with red eyes.

She was literally vibrating with pent up excitement.

Finally.

It had taken eighty years, but she had them. Gin was dead—fucking bastard—but the other three would follow him soon and it would be her _pleasure_ to dispatch them. She didn't have the last name but they would get there soon. First, Rashogen had to die.

_Calm down, onna, _she heard him say, _or you'll be making mistakes._

_Oh no, shishi, no mistakes today. He dies, not us._

She felt the hellhound grin darkly in her mind. He was as happy as she was, just as bloodthirsty.

Neither of them had ever been particularly bloodthirsty—both liked battle yet feared it—but this was different. This was personal.

She stilled suddenly. She could feel it, the whoosh as air was sucked into the vortex created by the dimensional door being opened. He was going to appear in front of her at any moment, feeling secure, never guessing that she was waiting on him. She only hoped he didn't have his cloak up; it would make fighting him that much harder. The cloaks were the one thing she hadn't figured out a way around.

The door popped into existence a mere fifteen feet away, and she felt Hidaruma tremble in his sheath. The idiot had his cloak on, but he didn't have the hood up. There was a floating head full of dark hair coming out of the door, accompanied by hands. He wasn't worried about anyone seeing him here, obviously.

She shot from the tree before he even realized there was danger.

He managed to evade her first strike, barely able to jerk his body to the left to avoid the sweeping strike she aimed at his neck. His zanpakutou—a wakizashi of some sort—was jerked out from beneath his haori, but he never pulled the cloak up to cover his head.

It was a stupid move.

She hit the ground and pivoted on her heel, swinging Hidaruma around again. Their blades clanged and met inches from his chest, and she finally got a good look at one of the two men that gave the order for her abduction and the experimentation eighty years ago.

He was disappointing in the daylight, she decided, an old man that shouldn't have ever been given power. As he tried to push her sword backwards she realized his death would be far easier than she had thought; he had only succeeded in sliding backwards himself.

"Rashogen Jin," she growled, putting her full weight behind the force of her blade as it slid even closer to his chest. "Nice to finally meet you."

She reveled in the expression of shock that flitted across his face as he realized who he was talking to.

Were—were his _knees_ _shaking_?

Moving so fast he couldn't possibly have seen her arm move, she pushed with her sword, putting enough of her spiritual energy behind the move that he flew backward, hitting the ground and tumbling end over end. He came to rest at the bottom of a tall pine.

She converged on him before he could pull himself up off the dusty ground, knees on his forearms and Hidaruma resting against his neck.

"Recognize me?" she asked mischievously.

"_Yamamoto_…Yamamoto Minako."

She nodded, her red eyes gleaming.

"Did you think you got away with it?"

His eyes darted around, a clear sign of his terror. His right arm was twitching beneath her knee but he made no move to free his arm. She watched as his Adam's apple bobbed, as he swallowed the terror she was sure he was fighting to control. He was failing miserably.

"Nothing to say? Don't want to _defend yourself_?"

His eyes snapped to hers as she leaned closer.

This man was a member of Zero? Seriously? She'd fought unseated officers braver than this. How long had he been off the battlefield, sitting in Central and casting judgment on those who risked their lives daily before Zero took him? Obviously the shadow division of her childhood dreams was nothing like she had imagined if no one had questioned the corruption that allowed a man like this to gain a position in the elusive division.

"You don't deserve that haori," she hissed, exhilaration shooting through her body when his eyes widened even further.

The muscles and tendons in her hand and wrist flexed as she shoved her blade downward. She felt blood hit her face as she severed his jugular followed by a puff of air as his trachea was opened. Then the blade slid home, cutting through tissue and bone like butter before slicing into the dirt and grass beneath his body.

She rose slowly, not taking her eyes off the two pieces of the man before her until she saw his chest stop rising erratically.

One down, two to go.

She could hear shouting now, the worried observations and muttered questions of the Zero members heading in her direction. She knew the reiatsu fluctuations would end up getting their attention—she just hoped she had timed everything right and was able to reach Akane and get through a door before they reached her.

He might have been a pushover but that definitely did not mean everyone in Zero would be that easy to defeat. In fact, she wholeheartedly doubted they would be.

She shook Hidaruma somewhat clean but kept the blade out just in case—then she pivoted on her heel again and, in the space of a few seconds using shunpo, she was back to Akane. The girl was already standing at attention, a hell butterfly secured in her hand.

"Now!" she half yelled, half whispered as she slid to a stop beside the younger woman.

And they were through the door, chests heaving with the adrenaline and excitement of finally getting to see some real progress in their mission.

Transport didn't take long; it was the main reason she had brought Akane along in the first place. Akane could actually use the butterflies where she wasn't allowed to even think of touching one right now. As they ran through the woods behind Minako's house, chests still heaving and Minako trying to wipe the blood off of her face and neck with her shirtsleeve, both felt the thrill wash back over them. Success.

"Feel better now, sensei?" Akane asked, a very uncharacteristic dark amusement evident in her tone.

"Oh, hell yes," Minako replied, shooting the younger woman a grin that was soon returned.

The danger was over for the moment and both allowed themselves to revel in their achievement.

* * *

"Taichou?"

He looked up at the young woman that had interrupted his work, prepared to remove her head from her shoulders—or an organ for dissection, whichever suited his fancy.

"Yes?" he hissed, fingernails clacking on the surface of his desk.

"You wanted us to inform you immediately of anything…weird…in the communications."

The taichou tilted his head to the left, staring at the shinigami before him.

"We've picked up something you probably want to see." She unfolded a paper printout in front of her, sliding it onto his desk and pointing at a line of incongruent waves halfway down the page. "At first we weren't exactly sure who was transmitting the signal. It wasn't on any of the standard frequencies."

"Zero," he said, the awe in his voice clear.

"We believe so, sir. It was heavily encoded, but we were able to run it through the computer and break the encryption. They were reporting to, well, wherever it is they report to, but we believe they were reporting from an area to the northwest of Rukongai."

"What did it say?"

"There is a squad of them located at a village there—I'm not sure why—but they were sending out a distress signal. They only sent it through their own frequencies, though…I doubt it was a hollow attack." She grinned at him, her green eyes lighting up. "One of their members was found _beheaded _in the forest near their location."

_Very interesting._

"They were quite…panicked…for Zero division members, taichou. Whoever did it, they slipped in and out before Zero could even get a look at them."

"Did they give a name?"

She nodded.

"Rashogen."

He pulled the sheet of paper towards him, folding it again and sticking it in a pocket stitched into the seam of his taichou haori. He nodded at the woman, a rare smile of pride blooming on his face.

"Good work. Keep monitoring their frequencies—he won't be the only one, I'm sure of it. And send someone to look up Rashogen-taichou in our back-up of the library database. They would have removed his information from the library when he was promoted, but I believe I recognize the name. He'll be in the records somewhere in the last hundred years."

She nodded and swept quickly from his office, and his eyes gleamed as he stared off into the ether in thought.

_Minako, Minako. What does he have you doing?_

_

* * *

_

A/N: R & R guys! It only takes a minute and makes my day!_  
_


	25. Chapter 25

A/N: Well, that wasn't a week! But to be fair to myself: I'm now a married woman. Weddings aren't the easiest thing to pull off guys, especially with only a few days planning!And getting everything ready for the big move hasn't been easy, either! But here's this Monday's two chapters, very late, I know, and there will be **four** more this week as a Christmas present. I'm going through editing the final five chapters now, as well as the epilogue, which will bring the story to a total of 41 chapters. It should all be posted by the end of January! My first big story!

I am very proud of fully finishing and posting this monster.

This is a fun chapter, inspired by a friend during an episode of Bleach.

Anyway, Enjoy!

* * *

"The Noble Sort"

* * *

_The Next Day_

The night was cool but not uncomfortably so; it was perfect for lounging on the small porch on the front of her house, a mug of tea and a blanket all that was needed to stay warm.

Akane was curled up in the wicker chair next to hers, her face lit by the blue glow of her laptop computer. She was, no doubt, shopping. It was what she did most of the time. Sometimes it was clothing, sometimes movies or music. It amused her, which was all that mattered—the kid hadn't been allowed nearly enough fun as a child.

They still didn't have the last name, although they were very close. They had found the access code that allowed the input of the coded time-delay morph, and they had found that the code had been used recently to access the underground prison in Seireitei. Whoever their last target was, he was still alive and still active, even if there was a gap of at least thirty years between the times he had used his own access code.

To Minako that just meant he was smart.

She took a sip of her burning hot tea, sighing as she stared off into the distance.

There was still the problem of Nishiori. His code was used continuously since his promotion, never a good sign. If he was that active he was high up. That or he was really low on the totem pole and forced to use his own code to protect those of the higher ups. Either way, it meant that one of the last two targets was most likely higher in the division formation than she probably wanted to try to deal with.

Not like she had a choice anyway.

"Minako?"

She shook her head clear of her thoughts before turning to face Akane.

The laptop was closed now, slid to the floor so Akane could throw her legs over the arm of the chair. She raised an eyebrow at her, her personal way of asking what she wanted.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Minako scrunched her nose up.

"You don't want them."

They both laughed when Hidaruma—sprawled on the grass about eight feet away—snorted his agreement.

"C'mon. I'm bored, and if you don't tell me the only thing left is _work._ If I look at one more line of shinigami code I'll kill myself."

Minako rolled her eyes.

But—hmm. How much did Akane really know about the forces that she was now up against? She had put a decent amount together from the messages, both verbal and written, that she was forced to carry. An amazing amount, in fact. But she was mostly ignorant of the upper echelons of the military in Soul Society.

"You obviously know what Zero is," she said dryly, and she fought not to smile when the younger woman shot her a dirty look. "Just what you learned in the Academy, I guess?"

"Mostly." Akane shrugged. "Some rumors from when I was in Sixth, too. But you can't believe most of that, can you?"

Minako snorted.

"No, you can't." She paused, tilting her head and looking at the ground beside her chair. "I—I didn't have a normal childhood."

It was Akane's turn to snort.

"I'm sure. Your oji-san is the most powerful man in the Gōtei 13."

"Yes. Well." She sniffed. "Something happened when I was young—don't ask what, I don't really remember, but I ended up living with oji-san for about a year. This was before the academy…after which I moved in with him permanently to get away from my mother, who was a major bitch for most of my childhood. But I went everywhere with him—meetings, drills, even his academy classes, which he was still teaching every once in a while at that point."

"Aw," Akane drawled, "a chibi Minako dogging her oji-san's every step."

"Pretty much. Well, because of this I was introduced to people I wouldn't have met otherwise. I grew up around taichou, Onmitsukidō members in and out of the house, even the Kidō Corp. leader was a regular. He," she laughed, "he spun some line about it being better to meet at the house, less revealing. I think they all just liked Hikaru-san's cooking."

Her brow furrowed, and Akane leaned closer.

"But one night a man came in that I never forgot. I was in awe of him—he was invisible when he entered and when he left, his haori was shimmering silver-grey instead of white. Oji-san rushed him out of the room down to his study in a hurry, but I…you know how I am. I made sure I knew who the guy was by bedtime that night."

"And?"

"What the hell do you think?"

"Zero-taichou?"

She took a drink of her tea, closing her eyes and remembering how the man had looked as he appeared in her uncle's living room all those centuries ago.

"The leader of Zero—they're all taichou, dumbass. I vowed that day I would be one of them so I could be invisible." She chuckled. "Of course, I was barely old enough to hold a sword; I wanted the haori because it shimmered and the cloak so I could sneak treats and spy on sensei and his students when they were training."

"Of course," Akane agreed, a smile on her face and amusement in her voice.

The redhead suddenly slumped, fiddling with the hem of her jacket and looking as morose as Minako had ever seen her. It was as if someone had removed all the happiness from her life in that single second.

"But you never got one," she murmured.

"No," Minako replied, "I never got one. Too many powerful Yamamoto already in our history for another one to go past fuku-taichou. Probably didn't help that all the taichou still saw me as either the little girl that had followed her oji-san around like a puppy or the eternal third seat of the Eighth. No promotion allowed for me other than to fuku-taichou when everything went down with Urahara."

There was a heavy silence.

"I—" Akane swallowed heavily, looking away, "I wanted to be a Kidō master, or a member of Onmitsukidō. I'm _good _at it, really good, and I can sneak around with the best of them. But they assigned me to the Sixth," she scrunched her face up and her voice changed pitch, sinking into a low tenor, "_Every member of this family has belonged to the Sixth. You will too. It's an honor, a privilege to serve under the noble Kuchiki family."_

"So no Kidō Corp.," Minako muttered, her good mood suddenly gone as well.

"Nope."

The women shared a meaningful look before turning and glancing out into the night.

"Fuckers."

"Pretty much, sensei."

Minako sent her protégé another look before climbing to her feet, grabbing her cup and blanket and preparing to head into the house. There was a peculiar grin on her face, her maroon eyes shining with mischievousness.

"Lesson number one: tolerance. I think it's time for some sake, _pupil_."

Akane grinned and jumped up.

* * *

It had taken her almost two hours to track them down.

That was two hours of wasted time, two hours of time that could have been spent on paperwork, two hours that she shouldn't have been searching for her errant taichou slash lover and his best friend.

She finally tracked the pair down in one of the seedier districts of Western Rukongai. They were visiting a teahouse that she hadn't even known existed—she was pretty sure her lover could sniff them out at fifty paces—and had taken up one of the private rooms in which to have their fun and converse without interruption. She hoped _interruption_ didn't include her; most of the time sharing her lover with his best friend wasn't an issue because she knew how close they were but this…this was important.

She shoved and glared her way past the hostess, through draping fabric and sliding doors, and finally into the small room they had chosen as their own for the evening. In return for her two hours of work she received two confused smiles and a halfhearted greeting.

_He will pay for it later_, she decided.

"So sorry to bother you during your…essential duties."

"Of course not, Nanao-chan! I'm sure it's important."

She scoffed. He wouldn't know important if it bit him on the ass. Especially right now—she could smell the sake on his breath from across the room.

"Come, Nanao-chan, sit! Enjoy some of this fine sake," he drawled, and she was almost tempted to do so. It had been a long and disturbing day.

"I don't think so."

"Well, then," Ukitake-taichou said as he sent her a puzzled look, "what can we do for you, Nanao-san? Have I kept him out too late tonight?"

She could feel the vein in her forehead beginning to throb.

"No, Ukitake-taichou. I just have some information you both might be interested in."

Her lover swept a large brown arm across the table, gesturing for her to sit down. She reluctantly crossed over to the table and sat; it wouldn't be long before he was hitting on her and pressuring her to drink. It was still a sore point for her—she couldn't stand the drinking.

Or the public broadcasting of his affection.

"I had to go over to the Twelfth this afternoon to turn in the requested dimensional transfers for this week."

She opened her mouth to continue but was cut off.

"Oh, my sweet Nanao-chan! Always on top of things!"

She sent him a look above her glasses, subtly straightening them at the same time. Her errant lover quickly shut up. The nonverbal message she had been sending them since her arrival finally registered.

"Yes, well, they were in an uproar. Apparently they're monitoring twice the frequencies of normal."

Both of the taichou suddenly sat up straighter—they knew what that meant. The Twelfth was monitoring the secret corps. as well as Zero. That was extremely rare.

"They were given the order to do so after mistakenly intercepting a message from Zero. This happens occasionally, but this was a distress signal." She flicked her eyes back and forth between the two men in front of her. "One of their squad leaders was murdered yesterday."

"What?" Ukitake-taichou exclaimed. "_Murdered_?"

"We haven't heard anything about it, Nanao. Surely it would have been brought up in these dreadful _nightly meetings."_

"That's the thing—I don't know if the sou-taichou knows about it. I'm pretty sure Minami wasn't supposed to say anything about it, but you know how it goes—any gossip about Zero and people can't hold it in."

Both men nodded distractedly.

"Do you know who?" Shunsui asked.

She shook her head. "But he was beheaded. Apparently _caught unaware _coming out of a gate."

"Impossible," Shunsui murmured, his eyes wide.

"Apparently not."

Ukitake-taichou furrowed his brows and gave her a stern look.

"If the order did not come from sensei, then who—"

"Kurotsuchi-taichou, sir. Minami said," she glanced around, paranoid that someone might overhear even in a private room far from Seireitei, "Kurotsuchi-taichou has been finding all sorts of discrepancies in the dimensional transmission logs. Even in the legitimate, butterfly-assisted transmissions."

She watched as her lover stroked his chin with his left hand, obviously contemplating the information.

"That in itself isn't surprising—we've all been in and out of the human realm much more than usual," he murmured, a faraway look in his eye.

"But Shunsui, the logs are always kept extremely accurate. Sensei is most strict about it."

"Mistakes happen, Juu."

"Well," she said, garnering their attention, "these mistakes are very specific. All but one or two of them have been butterfly-assisted, and they almost always occur on Sunday nights. _That_ isn't a coincidence."

"Indeed not, Nanao-san."

"Juu," Shunsui said, glancing over at his best friend, "didn't you say someone was at Yama-jii's when you stopped by the other morning?"

"Hai. But it was a Thursday morning, not a Sunday night."

"Still," her lover muttered, "I bet it would be on the list of transfer discrepancies."

"You think the sou-taichou knows about the log discrepancies," she said.

"Nanao-san, Kurotsuchi-taichou was held back after a meeting a week or so ago. He didn't leave sensei's office until late that night."

She nodded, her own mind now racing.

It didn't matter right now, though. She had accomplished what she set out to do; there was paperwork to be completed on her desk and nightly rounds to get in order. She needed to head back to the division if she wanted everything done so she could be in bed before midnight.

She could ponder all of this later.

She pushed up off the table, an uncharacteristic sloppiness but she was too tired to care, and nodded at them both. "I've got to get back. I wanted to make sure you both got the information before it was passed around to any of the other taichou."

They nodded, Ukitake-taichou sending her a sweet smile and a 'good evening' and her own taichou pulling on her arm as she walked by and giving her hand a kiss.

"I'll be back before eleven, hmm?" he said, his lilting tone and the dark eyes staring up at her sending shivers up her spine. She just nodded, too embarrassed over making their plans to share the night together in front of another taichou to even speak, and headed out of the room.

But her anger, which she had been nursing steadily all night, was suddenly gone with the heavy-lidded gaze he had sent her way.

"He said he was done with this sort of thing," Shunsui muttered into his sake.

"You know sensei." Juushirou took a drink of his own, his face settling into a moue of disappointment as he stared at the doors his friend's lover had just left through. "Can you not get her to finally call me by my name in private? I'm your closest friend, and…it makes me feel old."

Shunsui chuckled dryly.

"Nanao-chan will do what Nanao-chan will do."

* * *

The women were torn from what was quickly becoming a night of drunkenness—complete with off-key song lyrics—by a harsh pounding on the front door.

Thankfully they were in the kitchen, invisible to any prying eyes looking through the living room windows. They both hopped down from the stools surrounding the high counter, balling up and forcing themselves back against the kitchen cabinets. At this angle they weren't even visible through the kitchen windows.

They more resembled two pre-teens hiding from a monster than two exiled shinigami, both known for their tempers.

Hidaruma, just a lump of fur in the shadows of the dining room, shifted once and then curled back up. The man at the door wasn't a threat to anyone in the house. He wouldn't be needed anytime soon which meant he could continue lazing about; it was his favorite activity nowadays.

They weren't leaving, though. Someone was still pounding on the door.

"Shoul' we get it?" Akane slurred.

"Dunno. Too sloshed to fight right now. I can run but shunpo would make me throw up."

The knocking continued unabated.

Akane crept sluggishly down the wall of cabinets on all fours, poking her head around them and into clear view of the living room.

"Don' see anyone in th' windows."

"I don't feel anything either," Minako hissed.

_Answer the door, onna._

"Watcha think?" the redhead asked, shooting a drunken look at her sensei.

_I think you should answer the door. Drunken fools._

"I'm gonna go for it!" she whispered excitedly, as if she was journeying toward the moon, and Akane shot her a thumbs up.

She stood up heavily, swaying a little bit from side to side. Akane backed away from the small, narrow doorway that separated the kitchen from the living room and threw her fists into the air, cheering silently. Minako could see her lips forming "sensei!" over and over.

"You can't hold your booze," Minako hissed accusingly before shuffling awkwardly into the living room and to the front door.

She swung it open, taking a blind leap of faith in the shishi's judgment, and came face to face with her oji-san's fuku-taichou.

"Sasakibe!" she belted out drunkenly, pulling the man into the house when he leaned back and away from the sake fumes. There was a distant shout from Akane, basically an even more slurred repeat of the older man's name, and she ushered him bodily into the kitchen. "We were just thinking we needed some guys to get this party going, but—" she scanned up and down his body in a manner that made him look decidedly uncomfortable, "you aren't exactly my type. Hair color could work, but I prefer taller. And paler."

"Mine either," the now upright Akane said, pouting.

"You're both drunk!" he exclaimed, his disbelief plain.

"Guilty as charged," Minako replied as she moved to reclaim her stool. Akane tried to copy her movement and failed; she just slumped back against the cabinets once again.

"We've been," the redhead hiccupped loudly, "_sharing_. Sharing is caring."

"Sharing?" the man asked tentatively.

"Like you do at the shrink's office. My screwed up childhood, her obsessive family." She waved her hands around in the air. "Basically, why we are who we are where we are with whom we—ooh, that's alliteration."

Sasakibe's jaw dropped momentarily before a furious scowl formed on his face.

"You are in the middle of a very sensitive operation, which not only your vengeance and your freedom but your uncle's very existence now hinges upon, and you're _drinking?"_

"Weren't s'pose to be here tonight," Akane said matter-of-factly, shaking her finger at him.

"What she said," Minako agreed before she took another drink from her sake bottle. The sake saucers had long been discarded as a waste of time and effort. "But we don't care!"

She squinted at him, suddenly realizing she might need to care.

"Why _are_ you here?" she asked suspiciously.

"To find out what you were thinking when you _beheaded_ a member of Zero! You were supposed to _assassinate _him, not perform acts of gratuitous violence."

Minako gave him the patented soulful puppy dog look all women master at an early age and tapped herself lightly on the chest. "Yamamoto," she said almost regretfully.

Akane stared at her sensei, eyes wide and adoring.

"You—you cut his head off? I knew you killed him but—you're my fucking hero, you know that?"

Minako sent her a look right before she dissolved into giggles.

"I'm not sure what that says about you!" She patted Sasakibe on the shoulder. "It's okay. It was just—how it went down. He was on the ground, my sword was at his throat. It was—um, well, shit." She tapped her chin her index finger. "Not destiny, but close."

"Fate, Minako-sama?" he asked, his entire posture screaming defeat.

"There you go! Fuckin' fate!" She brought her bottle back to her mouth, sending him a dirty grin before she took another drink. "Fun, too."

He rubbed his forehead, looking embarrassed for himself, her, and the entire Yamamoto line.

"What is gratuitous?" Akane asked, obviously too drunk to fully participate in the conversation. Sasakibe just stared at her.

"It's a lot. Too much. Unnecessary. And keep up or _get out_."

Akane gazed morosely into the top of her own sake bottle.

"I really can't hold my booze," she murmured.

"We can train you for that, it's okay," Minako said reassuringly, as if drinking was something that could be practiced for improvement.

Sasakibe flopped down onto the stool next to Minako and put his head in his hands.

"I'm dead when I get back," he muttered.

"Nah," Minako said drolly, "just tell him _I _did it. I did it all. All my fault." Now she too was staring morosely into her sake bottle as if it contained the answers to all the great questions in life. "_Always_ all my fault."

He raised his head up and looked at her.

"It wouldn't be if you would just do as you're told," he said, his voice stern.

"Bleh. Rules. Regulations. Who needs the damn things? Didn't get me very far the _first_ time now did it?" She patted him on the shoulder again, but this time her hand was caressing his shoulder and he jumped. "You're stronger than you look, 'Kibe. You're hiding muscles under there!"

"Don't even think about it," he spat out, scooting his stool away from the drunken woman next to him. The fear he once had when he looked at her had morphed into terror of a completely different sort.

"What are you thinking about?" Akane asked. It was clear that staying in the conversation was taking up most of her brain power.

"Me?" Minako said, pointing to herself. "Nothing."

She leaned forward over the counter and spoke in a hushed whisper.

"But the men—they can't handle me. Don't know me at all and they think they do but they don't. Think I'm always thinking about _sex_. I'm _apparently_ a whore."

Sasakibe looked scandalized.

"Oh," Akane replied solemnly. "World's oldest profession. Good job secur'ty."

"I don't get _paid_ for it, dumbass!" Minako said defiantly. "And I've been a good girl for years now. Since the seventies, actually. _Monogamous_. And stuff."

Sasakibe let out a very impolite guffaw of laughter.

"I highly doubt it, Minako-sama."

"I have!" she shouted, twisting on her stool to face him. "You haven't been around! You wouldn't know!"

"Yeah!" Akane shouted, eager to defend her sensei.

"What a ridiculous end to a ridiculous day," Sasakibe muttered, and Minako nudged an unopened sake bottle inch by inch across the counter with one finger until it sat right in front of him. He looked at it and then her—she was again using the puppy dog eyes that had once been so effective on him—before sighing and pushing it back.

Well, she had offered. It was hers now, and it was corralled into the circle of other bottles.

_Excellent manners, onna._

_I thought so, shishi._

"Bad day, 'Kibe?"

"You have no idea," he sighed out.

She patted him on the shoulder again.

"Sure I do," she said in a commiserating tone, as if she shared and understood his woes, and taking a swig of sake, "I cut a guy's head off yesterday."

He shook his head before letting it fall with a thump onto the counter.

"Is still coo'," Akane said, as if her opinion was being challenged.

The women shot each other dopey grins, and the poor man thrown into the situation closed his eyes, hoping that he would somehow magically transport to anywhere that was not this kitchen.

"Yeah, it was, Akane."

"_Good God_."

* * *

Two hours later the fuku-taichou of the First had returned to Seireitei and stood in front of his boss, his hair askew and dark circles under his eyes. He was in a state few had ever seen.

"She was gloating about it. And drunk," the tired man said, his disapproval evident.

His taichou looked at him, a perplexing smirk on his face.

That was fine. Sasakibe really wasn't in the mood to play games tonight, but he had finally come out above his revered boss in _something_. It was a stupid something but it counted.

"And you were wrong—" he said, pointing his finger at the venerable figure before him, "about Ukitake. It wasn't just…well…"

"Sex, Choujirou? A man of your years should be able to say it."

He nodded, blushing.

The sou-taichou leaned back in his chair, his right hand coming up to absently rub at the stump of his left arm. Perhaps _he_ didn't know his _niece_ as well as he thought he did.


	26. Chapter 26

A/N: As usual, all the important information is lurking in the notes of the first two parts.

Enjoy!

* * *

"The Noble Sort"

* * *

_Pale hair was tickling her neck and shoulders as he leaned over her, his lips caressing her jaw. His hands were rubbing circles over her belly, her thighs, and she could feel his leg as he pushed it up and grinded it into her center with every involuntary thrust of his hips._

_He said something—she couldn't understand anything right now other than what she was feeling—before the hand on her thigh tightened, lifting her leg just enough to let him—_

She woke with a loud thud as she fell off the couch.

Hidaruma yelped as she landed on him, all fur and bones as he tried to throw her off and scramble away. It wasn't her fault he had a rude awakening—he shouldn't have slept right under her.

_You were drunk, onna! I was protecting you!_

_Too early. And please, for the love of all the kami, stop shouting._

"Need coffee. Somethin'," she murmured as she used the coffee table to pull herself up from the floor. "This is why I quit drinking."

Hidaruma huffed at her from his new position but was smart enough not to make any comments.

She shuffled into the kitchen, happily starting the kettle for tea—coffee would be too much this morning—and wondered where Akane had gotten off to after their night of binge drinking.

_She'll feel like shit this morning._

She moved as quietly as possible through the dining room and the short hall connected to it, past the bathroom, and past her own bedroom door before peeking into the open guestroom. There. Akane was sprawled out on the bed, clothes still on and dead to the world. At least _she_ had made it to bed last night; she also needed to stop calling it the guest room since the girl practically lived there now.

She quietly crept back to the kitchen and let herself sink onto a stool, head in her hands.

As if Sasakibe witnessing the night before wasn't enough humiliation, she was pretty sure she had compared him to the man she woke up dreaming about. He didn't hold anything back when he reported, either; her uncle would know exactly who she was babbling about.

It had been one of the main points of the agreement, too. She got her freedom and wouldn't be hunted by anyone as long as she completed the mission and stayed far away from his student. His opinion of the situation had hurt her—she couldn't help but feel he thought her unworthy of the man—but she had ignored it in favor of getting out of what would have most likely been a death sentence.

She had hoped the time would be enough to forget the man—staying attached to a guy had only been an issue once in her life, with Matsu. Still, she had been able to keep him at arm's length, never getting too close. There was a time she had thought she loved him but she later realized she hadn't loved _him_, just the security he offered her.

Juushi—Ukitake-taichou was not the same. Not by a long shot.

She sighed, smacking the counter ineffectively. This wasn't getting her anywhere. If anything, it was only making things worse. She had to put all thoughts of him out of her mind and finish this as soon as possible.

Oh, but the mental images!

She could see him as he was in part of her dream, the night's darkness cloaking him while the moon highlighted the contours of solid muscle covered in pale skin. White hair flowing over a shoulder, the look on his face screaming 'sex!' His yukata splayed open, beautifully defined abdominals sloping into—

She whimpered, cringing from the torture of her mind.

She couldn't have him; she did not need images like that popping up to destroy her self-control right now. It would be disastrous, considering.

It took almost half an hour for the tea to finish and the first cup to wake her up, after which she moved down the hallway into her own bedroom. First thing she needed was a hot shower.

After that—there was work to be done.

* * *

The warehouse was nothing like any shinigami would have expected, not for two members of Zero to be meeting there.

But these two members had learned early on in life how to confuse others, how to protect themselves. It wasn't always comfortable for them but it kept them alive through things most of the Gōtei 13 couldn't even imagine.

As Nishiori Kirin stepped into the shaft of light provided by one grimy window high above them, a silver head of hair appeared out of the shadows to his right. The newcomer straightened his haori, fiddled with his fuku-taichou badge at his waist, and rotated his neck, the bones popping loudly in the silence.

"Well?"

"It's impossible. I guarantee the old meddler is involved, but I can't find any proof that Yamamoto Minako did not die three years ago."

His fuku-taichou sighed, shaking his head.

"He's not stupid, Nishiori. There won't be any proof."

"Well if he's hiding her he's doing a damn good job of it."

He looked at the man in front of him inquiringly, tilting his head a minute amount to the right. He could see something building in him, something waiting to come out.

This man scared the shit out of him, he wasn't afraid to admit it. When they had first been approached by him to begin the project, it had seemed like a good deal. He and Rashogen would get promotions, they would have something capable of battling Aizen when the traitor finally made his move—it was perfect.

Except, well, it had all gone to shit.

Now, it seemed like the sou-taichou was on their tail, taking care of everyone involved in a quiet way that would assure questions were asked but not of him. They would be removed from existence by the old man—he had never had much respect for the sou-taichou—and he would continue, oblivious to what was going on around him.

"She's alive, I know it."

"You are so sure," he said deprecatingly. "You can't possibly consider that anyone other than _her _could've gotten the jump on him when he wasn't even that skilled to begin with?"

"He didn't belong in Zero," the fuku-taichou conceded.

"And she does?" he asked disbelievingly.

"She's…capable. Don't forget it."

He felt an eerie feeling creep through his body at his fuku-taichou's look.

"So, what now?"

His fuku-taichou curled his fingers underneath his cloak, pulling the hood up and over his face.

"I'll find her. You concentrate on fixing the _issue _before someone sees just how much you screwed up."

* * *

"Zero's got people on the move again—and in the human realm, taichou."

Kurotsuchi Mayuri looked up from his computer screen at the technician in front of him, his lips twisting into a devious smirk.

"Indeed?"

The shinigami—he couldn't remember his name—handed him a stack of printouts.

"Hai. Two of them. They were briefly ensconced in a warehouse on the edge of Karakura town. I wouldn't have seen the second one, but the first one—we caught him mid-dimension jump—met up with him and I recognized the wavelength from the parameters you gave us."

_A plant._

"Very good."

The shinigami stood there a moment, obviously unsure whether or not he had been dismissed, before finally just turning and leaving.

_Maybe the sou-taichou would like to see this._

* * *

_That Friday_

She swept her hand across the table, scattering the stack of papers in front of her all over the dining room in her frustration.

"This isn't enough!" she shrieked, the stress of the past few months finally getting to her.

Akane, sitting in one of the chairs to her left, stared wide-eyed at her sensei. It wasn't unusual for Minako to have a fit of temper—actually, it was quite normal. But she had been blowing up over every little thing for the past few days. Her nerves were shot, which Akane could understand, but even Hidaruma was tucking his tail and running out of the room when she entered now.

"I don't know what to do to help, sensei! But you can't—"

"What I can't do is identify someone with a code and two appearances without library access or a fucking photo. Something other than a string of numbers and the fact that he went and saw Aizen. _Seriously, _who hasn't? According to this, every shinigami and noble that can walk has gone to see the man confined."

"But even if I got into the library, Minako, I wouldn't know what I was looking for!"

Minako slumped in the chair, her forehead propped up by her hand.

"I know. It might not even be there, to be honest. They usually clean out the library logs once you are inducted into Zero. The only ones who ever know you existed after that are those who remember you." She shot Akane a look. "How long ago did you enter the Sixth?"

"I, well," she stuttered, "Kuchiki Ginrei was my first taichou. Maybe—"

"Were you a shinigami when everything went down with Urahara?"

"Hah!" Akane laughed, her eyes bright. "No way! I was in the academy at that point."

"Now, you'll have to forgive me; I was in the academy almost four centuries before you," Minako said dryly, clearly not happy revealing her age. "Do they still do that stupid introductory course where you have to remember the taichou's names and what they have their divisions specialize in?"

"Yeah—at least they did when I was there."

"Twelfth Division taichou Hikifune. Ring any bells?"

Akane tapped her chin, staring at the ceiling. "Urahara replaced her, right? Retirement I guess?"

"Incorrect!" Minako grinned and slammed her hand down on the now-clear table. "She was…promoted. Can you guess where they promoted her to, that no one ever saw her again and you can't find her name in the library?"

"Zero."

"Precisely."

"And the one we're looking for—"

"If I'm right, he'll not have been a shinigami in the thirteen during our lifetimes. At first I thought Nishiori had traded far up but now, well, I think it's the other way around." She stared at her protégé, a dark look in her eyes. "I think he was taking orders from someone high up. Fourth seat or better."

"In Zero!" Akane exclaimed. "He'll be damn-near undefeatable!"

"I know," Minako murmured.

They both stared off, lost in thought. It was one thing to take down some Zero small-fry that obviously didn't deserve the promotion. But a Zero officer—that was another thing. The man would be powerful, old enough to know tricks they hadn't even thought of yet. Never mind the issue of the cloaks; he wouldn't be stupid enough to let her see him as they fought.

"Perhaps I'm going about this the wrong way."

Akane shot her a questioning look.

"I've narrowed it down to about five prospects. They are all high up in Zero, unusually silent as far as activity goes, and there is very little information on them." She gestured to a stack of manila folders on the other side of the table, one of the few that had not been disturbed in her display of temper earlier. "The leader I've counted out—he's had the chance to take out oji-san and never taken it. And they are still in contact with no problems. He obviously has no idea who would want to kill Rashogen—and you can bet the one we're looking for knows exactly why he was assassinated."

"And?"

"I need to know what they look like. Hell, if I could get a rank I could narrow it down."

"And?" Akane asked exasperatingly.

"Perhaps it isn't library access I need." She sent Akane an evil little grin. "Who _hasn't_ visited Aizen, my little protégé?" she asked whimsically.

Akane frowned, obviously thinking very hard about what her sensei had _not _said, before an eerily similar grin broke out on her own youthful face.

"You."

* * *

Barely eight hours later, around nine that night, the situation had been rectified.

It had taken some quick maneuvering—she had to call into work, Akane and Sasakibe had to run messages back and forth all afternoon, and her uncle had to put in for a special dispensation to visit the prisoner—but it was done. At exactly a quarter to nine Minako was being ushered through the security parameters in the prison deep underneath Central by Sasakibe, the only part of her visible her eyes.

Which no one would recognize; contacts were a marvelous invention.

It had taken less time than she had thought; even with the sou-taichou's special permission she had thought they would be wary of anyone visiting the man. But apparently, according to the speech she was given by a guard that obviously thought her another noble wanting to see the side-show, she couldn't get anywhere close to him without being blasted to smithereens.

No wonder they weren't worried. She wouldn't blow herself up just to gawk at Aizen.

They passed through three different check stations, an elevator, what seemed to be a kidō force field inspired by Star Wars, and finally a very thick vault-like door before finally arriving at the hallway that led to Aizen's cell. There were four doors along the hallway, only two of which had anyone behind them. One was Aizen, obviously, while the other was a criminal she had never heard of that had apparently been there since before she was born.

Sasakibe grabbed her arm, pulling her slowly down the hall to stand in front of one of the doors—ah, you could see him and he could see you—whispering quietly that she needed to make sure he never said her name.

As if she didn't know _that._

There was a brief moment of pity, perhaps sympathy considering she could be in this very situation any time, when she saw the condition he was in. If the man ever had an itch he was screwed. The only thing that could possibly move was his hair. The only thing not tied down and covered was his head. They were taking his imprisonment very seriously; after twenty thousand years here he wouldn't be able to even lift a sword due to muscle atrophy.

"Will the guards stay down there?" she whispered to the older man next to her. He nodded at her.

She stepped to the line on the floor, staring straight at the man in the cell, and she smiled when he raised his head and opened his eyes.

"Aizen."

He smiled at her.

"I imagine you don't get a lot of intelligent conversation down here. I'll even feed you enough human celebrity gossip to keep anyone happy for the next three years if I have to, if you'll do one thing: don't say my name."

He nodded slowly.

She inhaled deeply; she had never imagined she would be deep in the ground interrogating this man, all to find a member of Zero. How twisted it was to use a traitor to track a traitor.

Then she realized the irony of that thought, considering her own dubious past, and made herself _stop_ thinking.

"So, how you been?" she asked him with a comical flourish, receiving a soft laugh in response. "That good, huh? Just checking—scoping out the prospects."

Sasakibe sent her a weird look but she ignored it.

"I'm sure they will treat you much better than they have myself."

"Yes, well, we both know Central. It's doubtable." She cleared her throat. "Anyway…"

"You are here for a purpose...fuku-taichou." She smiled. "Ask me what you wish to know."

"Straight to the point then? You certainly weren't last time we spoke. Anyway—not too long ago you had a very special visitor—"

"But I get _so many_," he said sarcastically.

"Incredibly special. I dare say you knew how special as soon as he showed himself. Tell me, did he wear his cloak all the way down, the entire time you talked to him, or did he actually let you see his face?" He smiled at her again, this time leaving a sick feeling in her stomach. "Well?"

"I saw his face, yes."

Bingo!

Little bells and whistles with matching confetti were populating her subconscious at the moment. Hidaruma was throwing his own personal party, apparently.

"Will you tell me what he looked like?"

"Why should I?"

She looked at him consideringly. Of course he would want something out of it, and he knew that if she was here with Sasakibe he just might be able to get it. Most likely he knew exactly how important the information he had was to them; Aizen wasn't stupid, even if he was a traitor.

"What do you want," she asked, her voice no longer teasing and pleasant.

He raised one slim brown eyebrow at her.

"I can't get it for you if you don't say."

His eyes flicked over to Sasakibe deliberately before settling on her face once again.

"He'll be the one approving it, so you better get over it." She looked at him as his grin widened. "And nothing like shortening your sentence either—stick to something I can fucking accomplish, if you could."

"How about light? Food?"

Ah. Sensory deprivation was getting to him. Understandable under the circumstances; even Aizen had a soul buried in that mass of evil. And looking at millennia without basic human necessities must be a bleak reminder of how much he had lost.

Not that she really cared.

She looked at Sasakibe, who nodded his head. He would play ball.

"You know they won't do it every day. The most I can probably get you is once or twice a year. Maybe a little more. Food would raise your reiatsu and they won't let that happen to any considerable extent."

"It will break up the monotony." His grin suddenly turned feral, his eyes sharp. "Even I need a break from strategizing."

"It will be done. As a matter of fact," she rested her hand on Sasakibe's arm, gently turning him away, "I'll send him to get something for you to eat now. A show of good faith."

Aizen dipped his head once at her, the only show of thanks she would ever get from that man.

They both waited silently as Sasakibe's steps echoed in the long hallway, finally ending in a hushed conversation with the guards and his exit through the massive door. Finally.

"Now. He's gone." Her maroon eyes gleamed in the little light they gave him. "How high up is he? I know he's at least a fourth seat."

"Fuku-taichou. His badge was on his sash."

She felt her stomach drop. They had a name, then. She had looked at the file over and over, praying it wasn't him. Going against the fuku-taichou of Zero would probably be a death sentence. Even for someone as highly trained as she was.

"What does he look like?"

"Older—perhaps around Sasakibe-fuku-taichou's age and appearance. Grey hair, common height, nothing truly distinguishable about him."

"Nothing at all? I know you would have looked to see if there was anything. A scar, bad haircut, even an eye that doesn't seem to move with the other one? I need _something_."

"Nothing."

She sighed, her shoulders slumping.

"Well, fuck."

"Well, perhaps there was something…"

"Yes?" she asked, perking up.

"He wears glasses frequently. He did not have them on when he visited, but there were clear indentations in the skin at his temples." He sent her a spine-chilling smirk. "His left eyebrow also had a very slight patch of skin where the fine hairs were missing above it."

_Zero-fuku-taichou waxes?_

She felt herself grow cold.

_No male shinigami would do that. This man has spent a great deal of time in the human world._

"Anything else—any little detail you can think of?"

"I would say he is ambidextrous. He used both of his hands equally. He also had a habit of rubbing the knuckle of his right index finger with his thumb."

_No._

She felt her body tense and forced herself to relax; she couldn't give anything away to the man in front of her. He wasn't above making a deal with Zero if the guy came back and giving them information on her.

Too late, though.

"You know him," he said, a perverse, dark satisfaction evident in his tone.

"Perhaps."

There was long, uncomfortable moment of silence.

"Why are you helping them?" he asked, his voice dark. "They have only schemed, tricked, played with you since your arrival in Seireitei. From the very beginning you have been nothing more than an amusing pet, yet you would protect them?"

The clang of the large vault door was loud, as were Sasakibe's steps. She spared him a quick glance—he was carrying a tray with fruit pieces and a slice of bread. She wasn't sure how he intended to get it to the man in the cell considering Aizen couldn't even feed himself at the moment, but that wasn't her problem.

"I protect oji-san." She titled her head, a devious smile crossing her face. "But I'm out for blood, if you must know. I'll make sure they all _pay _for what they've done to me."

He tsked.

"You should know better—vengeance is a sad motivation. It dulls the mind, leaves you open to attack."

"If I'm going after the fuku-taichou, it won't matter, will it? I'm not too proud to admit that I probably can't defeat him."

"You might surprise yourself."

He smiled when Sasakibe arrived with a guard, the latter of which quickly undid a layer of kidō around the cell and opened a tiny slot in the door. It was amazing to watch as he used kidō to somehow _levitate_ the food piece by piece into Aizen's mouth. And Aizen chewed slowly, savoring every bite he was given.

It took almost twenty minutes to feed him a small fruit cup and two pieces of bread, the entirety of which she spent thinking, her mind racing through the possible outcomes of the coming battle. She had needed the information, yes, but finally knowing who she was going against was also demoralizing.

The guard stepped back when he had finished, redid the layers of protection he had taken down to feed his prisoner, and left them standing there with a harsh look.

"Anything else, fuku-taichou?"

"I don't think so." She glanced over at Sasakibe before flicking her eyes back to him. "I'm sure I'll see you around, Aizen-_taichou_."

His smile was sin in the low light of the room.

"I'm sure you will."

* * *

It was past eleven when they arrived at her ancestral home where they would meet with her uncle and Akane. Once again she was coming back to this house, years after leaving, so sure she would never see it again.

She stopped on the stone path, eyes closed as she breathed in the scents on the air.

The flowers were blooming down by the pond. Hikaru-san had planted her garden already, and the small of radishes was heavy in the night air. Even the grass had a particular scent, greener and fresher than the poor imitation growing in her front yard. And wood polish—Hikaru-san had polished the beams and the rails of the veranda today.

"Minako-sama?"

She shook her head, opening her eyes and staring at the man now looking at her with concern written all over his face.

"I'm fine, Sasakibe." She took a deep breath. "Let's do this."

He nodded, shooting her a tiny smile.

They navigated the stone path and the veranda to the sliding doors that would let them enter directly into the living area where they could feel her uncle and Akane. When they entered it was to light, warmth, and the smell of fresh black tea.

Akane was sitting across from her uncle, somewhat subdued compared to normal, but her uncle—his eyes were open and focused on her.

"Sir," she greeted politely, her head held high.

"Minako."

She raised an eyebrow at Akane as soon as he turned toward Sasakibe, who had already moved to sit next to him on the couch. Akane scooted over, letting her slide onto the couch and putting her right across from her uncle.

How generous.

"Did you get what you needed? I cannot arrange anything like this again," oji-san said dryly, his voice harsh.

She could feel every cell in her body deflate at the obvious disappointment, and her stomach—it felt like a black hole was growing there, pulling in everything around it. It was half numbness and half insane hurt, although she probably shouldn't have expected anything else from him. He had made his opinion clear three years ago and was only humoring her now so that he could be sure all threats to the Gōtei 13 were eliminated.

Still.

There was this small child inside of her that screamed out for his approval, for something from him. She shoved it deep, allowing her face to fall into a mask of perfect politeness. She would be the embodiment of civilized behavior tonight. She could pout and wallow later.

"I have. Aizen was very cooperative, Oji-sama." Sasakibe sent her a look of astonishment, and her attention focused on him to the point where she didn't catch her uncle's subtle wince at the honorific. "While I am no closer to finding him, I at least know who I am searching for."

"And?"

"His name is Matsuno Ietaka."

All three of them stared at her with widened eyes.

"Matsuno-fuku-taichou?" Sasakibe asked, his astonishment evident. "Are you sure? Should you believe—"

"I wouldn't go there," Akane said darkly.

Sasakibe looked sheepish, and Minako had to break the sudden, uncomfortable silence with a well-timed throat-clearing.

"We all know Aizen rarely lies. And he was correct, right down to where the fuku-taichou supposedly wears his identification." She raised her head, her nose in the air. "It isn't your problem anyway. You won't be the one hunted for killing him, I will."

"If you survive," Akane muttered.

"Yes, well, there is that. I'm trying not to focus on it at present. Everyone here knows how likely it is that he is very skilled, perhaps even near oji-sama's level in skill."

She smiled serenely, much like Unohana-taichou.

"The largest problem I face now is finding him—he's very good at hiding and his access code—"

The door leading to the interior hall slid open suddenly and Hikaru entered the room bearing a tray laden with a variety of snacks. She had even—Minako fought a smile—included English tea cakes for Sasakibe.

When she saw who was sitting on the couch she hurriedly dropped the tray to the table in between the two couches and tugged her old charge up, pulling her into a bone-crushing hug that would most likely leave bruises.

"Oh, child! I had wondered if I would ever see you again!"

"Hikaru-san, please!" Minako gasped out. "Can't breathe!"

"Hikaur, dear. I think you're grown enough to call me by name."

The woman continued to hug her but let go quickly enough, pushing her back and scanning her body as if any wounds would be evident through her clothes. But that was Hikaru-san, really; she was always worried that the 'younger generation' didn't know how to care for themselves. It was something any visitor under a thousand became used to in the house.

"Look at you," she scolded fiercely, her face set in a scowl, "you're all skin and bones. You were tiny when I last saw you but there's nothing there now."

It was true, Minako knew. She hadn't taken care of herself as well as she probably should have, especially considering the fact that she used to be able to put a lot of food away. If she got much smaller she would be hard-pressed to find clothing that fit her, and that was with her already raiding Akane's clothing stash. She had never been a large girl but she had had some curves—something. Now, though, there was little left.

"Hikaru-sa-Hikaru, please—"

"Do you not eat, Minako-dono? I swear, one of these days I will—" Her muttering continued but Minako wasn't able to catch it all as she had turned to the tray and was loading a plate with tasty-looking food. And really, Minako couldn't remember the last time she had eaten.

_Have I really been that out of it?_

"Akane—"

"Last time I can remember seeing you eat anywhere near your normal amount was…well, I don't know. You ate some soup last night for dinner, I remember, but you only ate the broth and the meat. Said the peas were nasty. You threw away more than you ate, but you were engrossed in the files." The redhead tapped her chin. "You didn't eat breakfast, and unless you ate while I was out you didn't eat lunch or dinner."

Hikaru shot her a look and added more food to the plate before ushering her back to the sofa and putting it in her hands. Minako furrowed her brows and looked at the food, missing her uncle and Sasakibe's own looks of concern.

"It's because I was supposed to work tonight. I usually get something on the way—"

"A stick of yakitori ain't a meal, sensei."

"Maybe you should cook more often then. I burn water, remember?"

Hikaru tutted at her and gestured to the plate.

"What do you survive on, child?" Hikaru asked as she began fixing up three other plates. Minako took particular satisfaction in the fact that her uncle didn't get any of Hikaru's famous daifuku.

"She lives off of tea and coffee, Hikaru-san," Akane said helpfully, gleefully taking the plate that was handed to her. She looked like someone had just handed her a winning lottery ticket—yet another Hikaru fan taken in by the woman's cooking.

"Not helping, Akane," Minako hissed at her protégé as she took a bite of one of the _three_ daifuku Hikaru had given her_._ They were delicious, as usual.

"You know better. I raised you to take care of yourself."

The bite of sweet dessert turned sour in her mouth. Wasn't that the truth.

_Hikaru_ had raised her. Not her mother. Not her uncle, even. And they wondered why she was in the mess she was in—the maid had raised her, not that Hikaru had made a bad stand-in mom. She had done much better than Arisu, that was for sure.

* * *

_Daifuku_-sweet rice cake, typical summer dessert


	27. Chapter 27

A/N: As usual, all the important information is lurking in the notes of the first two parts.

Enjoy!

* * *

"The Noble Sort"

* * *

_Two Weeks Later_

Minako stood in front of the mirror, turning this way and that.

Her hands slid over her stomach—flat as usual, but she had never been able to get abdominals before. There had always been a little bit of roundness there and it was gone now. She had no boobs to speak of, no ass at all.

Huh.

_You're not going to keel over, onna. You're not that thin._

She shot the dog a look.

She saw Akane appear in the doorway through the mirror, and she turned again, this time sideways. She hadn't noticed it before, and like shishi said, she felt fine. It couldn't be that big a difference if no one had said anything, right?

"How much do you think I weigh?"

Akane flopped down onto her bed.

"I dunno. Forty kilograms? A little less? It's not _that_ bad, really, but you're probably seven or eight kilos underweight. Especially with your muscle mass. Hell, you're thinner than Yoruichi now—that's saying something."

"Hmm."

She stared at herself in the mirror, watching as her hand wrapped around the side of her waist.

"Is this what's been bothering you? 'Cause I've seen you in here doing this every day." She snorted. "At least you're eating something again, even if it isn't enough to keep your baka dog alive."

Hidaruma raised his head from the rug he had claimed and sent her a playful growl. Akane giggled back.

"No, not really," she murmured. "There are other things, too."

It was eating at her, true, but not for the reason Akane probably thought. And it wasn't her main concern. Hell, she wasn't even sure if she should tell Akane what was going down that night—the girl would be desperate to tag along if she did and right now she could just say she was going into work.

But if she didn't, and her fears were correct…it would be dangerous not to at least have her know what she was planning.

_Matsu is Matsuno. Matsuno is Matsu. _

_This can't be real._

"I have a date, of sorts." The girl shot up on the bed, bouncing and full of excited astonishment.

"Really!" she exclaimed. "Finally going to give—getting over the other lover? I was wondering if you would ever even consider dating again!"

Get over him? Not fucking likely, considering. It had been three years since they spent one night together and she hadn't been on a real date since. Hell, she couldn't remember the last time she let a man take her home.

"It's not—it's not like that." She shook her head. It was still all too coincidental with what her mind had put together and it was worrying her terribly. "There was a guy…I told you about Matsu, right?" The girl's reflection nodded in the mirror. "Well, somehow he tracked me down. I should've known he wouldn't give up, but _seriously._ Waltzed right into work last weekend and demanded I meet him for dinner tonight to 'discuss things.'"

"And he's taking you out tonight? Like _date_ taking you out?"

She nodded absently.

"I'm meeting him at a restaurant downtown at eight."

She wouldn't dare let him pick her up and find out where she lived.

"So you've been bitchy and antsy all week because of a _date_? That's usually a happy occasion, Minako, not something you prep for like, like—like you're going in front of the firing squad."

"I told him I didn't want anything to do with him, Akane," she forced through her teeth, "but typical Matsu, Mr. God's Gift to Women, thinks I must have just been in a _mood._ One day I'm gonna find out who started that whole PMS ruling women myth and kill them myself. I don't care if I have to search Hueco Mundo _and_ Seireitei."

Akane nodded.

"So that's why…the…with the mirror and stuff? Worried the new thin Minako won't be quite up to snuff?" Akane narrowed her eyes at the mirror. "The missing boobs might be an issue, but guys tend to like them thin nowadays, right?"

Minako shrugged. There were other reasons, too.

Not that she was going to tell Akane she was more upset over what her subconscious lover, the one she had only been able to spend one night with, would think about her body. He had seemed quite happy before; maybe he didn't like his women this thin.

"Well, I have an awesome dress you can wear—or not!" she said quickly when her sensei shot her a look of loathing. "How about some nice, uh, sexy…black pants?"

The glare intensified.

"Look," Akane breathed out, "if you wanna be sexy, wear the dress. If you want to be all frumpy, wear your typical black pants. It's up to you." Akane pushed off of the bed, heading toward the hall, but she stopped and turned, shooting a saucy grin at her mentor. "If it was me, I would wear the dress. Knock him on his ass."

"I'm not a slut!" Minako shouted as the redhead disappeared down the hall.

"Doesn't mean you can't get laid! Might bring that stress level down!"

"Don't run too far, stupid girl! We gotta talk before I go!"

Sex, huh? Was she really that deprived of it? Did it really even matter?

_Kami knows you need it, onna._

She sighed, her shoulders falling.

_Not you, too._

* * *

Matsu was late.

It was half past eight and she sitting at a table alone in a very nice restaurant, wearing a very nice yet obviously "advertising it" red dress. And heels. Spiky heels. She hated any type of heel that didn't come with a boot attached. They made her nervous of falling, of tripping, of having to fight in them.

But the fact that she had spent three hours getting ready and another half an hour figuring out how to fold her coat and carry it with Hidaruma hidden inside wasn't her main issue. _Matsu_ was _late._ Matsu was never late, ever. She'd known him almost thirty years, and in that time frame he had only once been late and it had involved someone being in a horrific car accident.

She took a final sip of her water—with the uneasy feeling she'd had all day she wasn't about to drink—and signaled the waiter. She was leaving.

And, just like in the movies, he finally showed up.

He looked as unruffled as ever, perfect and poised. But he had been late, which meant something was definitely up.

And there they were, all the signs. Matsu was ambidextrous. He waxed his eyebrows—had always been more fastidious about them than she was about hers, even. And his thumb—it was going a mile a minute at his index finger, something she had noticed he tended to do when he was nervous.

Maybe it was real, then. Maybe her mind wasn't making things up.

"Minako, I'm so sorry," he said, ruffling his hands through his grey hair. "Would you mind—it's been a long day. I'd rather we just take a walk and talk about this. I'm not up for sitting here right now."

She shot him a look but gathered her purse and her coat quietly.

"It's nice to see you too," she muttered to his back as he turned to take care of the now-cancelled reservations.

She followed him out of the restaurant into the cool night air, but stopped at a nearby bench. She threw her coat and purse down and immediately dug through the red satchel for her phone. Her intuition was telling her she was right—her stomach was roiling now—and she had to make sure Akane was ready.

"I'm just going to call my roommate. Tell her plans have changed."

He nodded, although he looked somewhat suspicious.

Akane picked up after the second ring, her "moshi-moshi" bright and bubbly.

"Hey, our plans have changed. I won't be reachable at the restaurant anymore; my date had a bad day so we're going to take a walk instead. There's a park a little ways down," she pointed the direction out to Matsu and he nodded, "and we'll probably just head there."

She could literally hear Akane chewing on a finger nail.

"_Sure. You gonna be late? Because if so I am not staying up to talk about the hot guy you were out with!"_

Akane's laugh was clear in the night air and even Matsu cracked a smile. Hopefully it would be enough to convince him it was just a regular phone call.

"Probably. Might go back to his place for a while and talk if it gets too cold, you know?" She paused as Akane made a noise of agreement, then said slowly but lightly, "_Leave the door unlocked for me_?"

Akane went very quiet before forcing out a very solemn "_sure_."

She hung up the phone; the message had been received loud and clear. Akane would be downtown as soon as she possibly could, and the back-up would be welcomed. She probably wouldn't let her get involved in the fight, but the fact was she might have no choice.

She should have seen it earlier.

Matsu. _Matsuno._ He looked older, sure, but he had never aged like a normal man, either. And he had so easily accepted her excuses for her own appearance. And the kendo—bullshit. He had knocked her to the floor a few times. She should have fucking _known._

But she had known. She had been sure enough of it that she told Akane that this might be what happened tonight, although she had made sure the girl knew her suspicion could be wrong. She had just ignored it in light of the fact that it was Matsu.

But now—with the late arrival, the tension she could see surrounding his eyes, all the signs, even his wary stance—she knew better.

She took a deep breath as she picked up her coat, making sure she had a good grip on Hidaruma, and turned to him calmly.

"Sorry."

"It's fine, Minako. But a roommate?" He laughed. "You once said you couldn't live with anyone, ever. Does she know your real name, or does she use this new alias of yours?"

"I don't have a roommate now," she said wryly, "she just kind of…moved in slowly. I find I'm too used to her to push her out. And she's young—she needed the help." She sent him a trembling grin. "And yes, she knows my real name."

He nodded.

They started toward the park. He was normal—as much as possible, anyway. And she was fighting down the panic that came from knowing she was walking next to the man that had raped her eighty years before.

Meanwhile, across town, Akane was panicking.

They had created the phrase years ago, even before she had truly hung around Minako. It was their patented trouble phrase; if you called someone in the network and told them to 'leave the door unlocked' it meant you were in deep shit and they needed to use the clues given to figure out where you were and come help.

She grabbed her keys and her own zanpakutou and ran to the car still clutching her phone in her hand.

She tossed Oogama into the passenger seat and jammed the keys into the ignition, revving the car and pulling out of the driveway at a breakneck pace. She dialed with one hand and drove with the other, literally shouting with joy when she heard Sasakibe's voice over the line.

"_You know you're not supposed to use this unless it's an emergency," _he hissed over the phone. She could hear someone talking in the background; he was obviously out somewhere.

Who would've known—even Sasakibe had a night life.

"Yeah, well," she snapped as she ran a light and got honked at, "it _is_ a god-damned emergency! Last I knew Minako was going on a date with some guy she's known for decades. But I just got a call using the security phrase—for those of us who have never had to live life on the run, that means she's in deep shit."

"_A date? Do you two ever work?"_

"Will you stop focusing on that and focus on what I'm saying!" she shouted as she slammed her hand against the steering wheel.

"_So she's trying to get out of a date. I'll admit I would never have expected it of her—"_

"No, you moron. She's not trying to get out of a date. She went to meet up with someone she's known _since the fucking eighties_ and she just gave me the security phrase that defected shinigami on the network use to call _back-up for a battle!_ She warned me earlier that the time frame was right—_"_

"_Oh. Oh, hell."_

"Precisely, dumbass! Question is, which one is it? Nishiori or—oh, shit," she trailed off, finally realizing the significance of her sensei's date's name and the last name of the fuku-taichou of Zero.

"_You know which one?"_

"She was," she cleared her throat, trying to dislodge the lump of fear lodged there, "she was going to meet her ex-fiancé—"

"_Ex-fiancé_?"

"Shut up!" she shrieked, whipping the car around a corner. "She was going to meet her ex-fiancé, Matsu. _Matsu, _Sasakibe, as in _Matsuno-fuku-taichou."_

She heard something fall as he most likely tried to stand up too quickly.

"_Where? I can't get a release waiver until I know where."_

"A park downtown. I don't know the road—" she cut off as she screamed at someone in front of her driving too slowly, "but it's near the university. She said the restaurant was new and by the university so the park has to be near there because they were going to go for a _fucking walk._ My sensei is walking down a road with the fuku-taichou of Zero and has no way to release her reaitsu until you get that form to Twelfth," she cried hysterically.

"_I'm already on my way. You just get there and make sure nothing goes wrong!"_

She nodded before she realized he couldn't see it, then just hung up the phone and tossed it into the passenger seat with her zapakutou. She screamed at the cars in front of her—too damn slow!

She was going to be late, she just knew it.

* * *

Sasakibe was literally flying through Seireitei, the shinigami he passed barely getting a glimpse of the fuku-taichou as he ran by.

He didn't even nod when he passed Kyouraku-taichou, Ukitake-taichou, and Ise-fuku-taichou, which was very unusual and worth comment as far as the group was concerned.

"Was that—"

"Indeed, Nanao-chan. Heading somewhere in quite the hurry, too."

Kyouraku's gaze met Ukitake's.

"Curiouser and curiouser, Shunsui," he said lightly, his eyes sparkling with a mischievous light.

"Hmm. Whatever Yama-jii is up to, it seems good."

* * *

The park was quiet, the silvery light of the moon shining down on the new grass as they made their way down the path to a bench across from the playground.

Matsu had been very solemn throughout their walk. She wasn't sure, but it either meant he knew she knew or he was going to finally say something about it. Either way, they would end up fighting.

And Hidaruma was literally frothing at the mouth. It had taken all of her control to keep him from just attacking the man during the walk to the park. He had been screaming in her head on and off the entire time, ready to be unleashed so he could personally get revenge for what had been done to them. What had been done to _her._ But an angry shishi wasn't something to release on the general public—even around them, really. He could become very single-minded in his attempts and end up hurting a bystander.

Not that there were any around now, not at nine in the evening in a public park.

He gestured toward the approaching bench and she sat down gratefully—the shoes were starting to hurt her feet. It was the work of a moment to have them off, down on the ground next to her little red satchel purse, and Hidaruma safely nestled in her lap.

Matsu didn't sit; he paced in the grass about ten feet in front of her; it was a swordman's move. He was close enough to speak but far enough away to have warning if she decided to strike at him. But suddenly he stopped, pivoting on his heel to face her, his gaze boring into her own.

"How long have you known?" he asked tiredly, his hand ruffling his short grey hair.

"Known what?" she said carefully, trying to mask her tension with an air of ignorance.

"That I was a shinigami."

She exhaled shakily. So he was going to own up to it, then. At least part of it. The question was, how much of what came out of his mouth would be truth?

"I had my suspicions. Didn't really know until tonight, though." She cocked an eyebrow. "And you?"

He snorted.

"Obviously, I knew before I met you that night."

"And you felt you couldn't say anything?" she asked, cynicism dripping from her voice. "Like it would have mattered to me. Hell, it probably would have made things easier."

"Perhaps," he conceded. "But you know who I am now. Does it make it easier?"

She wrapped one of her arms around herself, trying to halt the shaking. At this point the night could go one of two ways, neither of which boded well for either of them.

"The fact that you're a shinigami?"

A dark look came over his face and he took a step toward her, his hands balling into fists. She could see the anger—something she had rarely seen from him—seeping into his body language.

"Don't play with me. It took me over a month to track you down, to prove you were alive. I'm not in the mood," he growled.

"You mean the fact that you're Zero-fuku-taichou? Do you think that would have mattered to me?" she asked as she slid Hidaruma from underneath her coat. There was no need to hide it now; most likely he had his own weapon on him and surely he knew she wouldn't meet him tonight without it. "Or do you mean the fact that you were involved in a series of experiments that ruined my life, killed at least six other shinigami, and trampled all over the laws you swore to uphold?"

He scoffed.

"Don't lecture me on the law, Minako. You don't deserve to."

"Perhaps not," she murmured.

"So, you know I was involved."

She nodded.

"Yet this is all I get? Some sarcastic words in a park? Yare, I bet Rashogen wishes he had been that lucky. Tell me, was he even worth killing?"

Her head shot up. There was a maniacal look in her eye. She had blown straight past infuriated.

"Of course he was! He was right there with the rest of you! What he wasn't—he didn't deserve Zero. And you had to have given him the promotion. That's what _truly_ pissed me off, that a member of the _elite fucking Zero_ was able to be dropped coming out of a gate by a former fuku-taichou!"

"Don't be so modest, Minako," he drawled, shaking his finger at her, "you're hardly at that level. We both know better. You were chosen because of your ability—at least own up to it."

He shot her a look full of inquiry.

"You have your sword. I know your oji-san is helping you carry out this little personal mission, which means there is a release order being taken care of as we speak. So it begs the question: why haven't you tried to kill me tonight?"

"The night's still young," she said darkly.

"You could've tried earlier. I've given you at least three openings tonight."

She sighed and lowered her head, her hair falling around her face. She made sure to keep him in her line of sight, but she allowed herself to take in the setting they had chosen as her mind raced. There wasn't really a way to explain why she hadn't taken the chances he had given her.

"I can't truly explain it. Part of me—part of me hoped you weren't him so badly. You—you—I almost _married_ you. I think I had to know why…maybe what you were thinking when you approached me that night."

"You were a pretty girl in distress. I wasn't thinking with the right head," he gave a protracted little laugh, "You know me well enough to know that."

"Don't give me that bullshit!" she screamed as she jumped up from the bench, Hidaruma tightly clasped in her right hand. "Why would you—oh, _Kami_, I slept with my fucking _rapist_. I think I'm gonna be sick."

Her eyes darted around as her left hand came up to cover her mouth. There was nowhere for her to go to quell her stomach, though, so she forced it down.

"I didn't know you then," he said desperately.

She stared at him in disbelief.

"That makes it all better? You didn't know me so you felt it was okay to rape me. After all, what's one test subject, right? I would've either been killed, promoted, or defected. So it doesn't matter. But later!" she screamed, gesturing wildly with her sword. "Later, you knew! You knew and you let me—you had to have known what that would mean when I found out. No woman would take that well!"

"I was supposed to get close to you so I could _eliminate_ you if you ever found out, not _sleep_ with you. Unfortunately, things don't always go as planned."

"Really?" she said sarcastically. "I had never planned to be here at any given point in my life." She slowly raised her sword, the tip pointing directly at his chest. "But I am. And so are you. And for some reason I absolutely loathe the very sight of you but I can't bring myself to fucking _kill_ you!"

She turned quickly, stabbing her sword in to the ground repeatedly, accentuating each thrust with a screamed profanity. The famous Yamamoto temper was surfacing.

"I could've killed you too, but I didn't! Doesn't that mean anything to you?" he pleaded. "As far as Nishiori knows I'm here to kill you—obviously I'm not planning to. Can't you accept that I could've possibly changed in the last eighty years?"

She jerked the sword from the ground and spun around again.

"No. No, I can't accept it. You don't get to _change_ like that! You can't expect me to believe a little fling we had twenty years ago suddenly made you a good person!"

He was on her too quick for any retaliation, pushing her to the dew-soaked grass and covering her small frame with his own. One of his hands gripped her right wrist tightly, making sure she had no chance to stab him while they were this close to each other.

His eyes captured hers—all she could think about was that this man, this man she had once thought she loved, had raped her. Had taken advantage of her when she couldn't even mutter a protest.

"_Fling_? You kept the _ring_, didn't you?"

"Get off me," she growled as she bucked her hips, trying to throw him off her.

"Not until you listen to what I have to say." He slammed his forehead into hers, making bright splotches of light appear in her vision. "I was very different then—I didn't know you like I know you now. You think I'm some horrible person because I made a fucking mistake—"

"_Mis_take?" she screeched in protest.

"—decades ago. _You _became the only hope we had of that project succeeding—and it had to succeed. _We_ were going to defeat Aizen one way or another, and if it meant we had to screw with a few of you we didn't care. We were doing our fucking _jobs_ while the rest of you were ignoring his schemes."

"_Rape_ is not like accidentally putting in a bad time-morph code, Matsu!"

Their noses were suddenly touching, his eyes so close she could see the fine lines of color in his irises.

"Yes, I took advantage of you. You want the full truth, then? _Fine_. I'll give it to you." He nipped at her chin, biting down just enough to leave teeth marks on the sensitive skin. "You pranced around your oji-san's house like you were ten times better than the rest of us, Zero or not. The perfect little shinigami brat, _that's_ what they called you. So when they pointed out that you were taichou-level but would never make it, I fucking took advantage of it."

His chest was heaving now as adrenaline coursed through his body, but she couldn't breathe, couldn't move.

"It was pay back. Poor little Minako, so helpless strapped to that gurney. Definite role reversal for you, wasn't it? Does that make you feel better? If it had been anyone else, they would've been safe. But _you_, you little _bitch_, you had it coming."

"Get off me," she hissed again.

"What? Does this bring back memories, Minako? Does it _scare_ you?" He licked her cheek. "Or does it bring up better memories, hmm? Vegas in '93? Me fucking you in the bathroom of Pyro when we went to London?"

"It pisses me off!" she spat.

"Well, you've been pissing me off for the last two centuries. So much better than the rest of us. Even when you were a defector, a fucking traitor! Even then you were too good for me, for any man. You threw it all back in my face." He chuckled dryly, his face twisting into a grimace. "Even threw that ring back at me after years of leading me on, letting me think that I might have had a chance with you."

"Thank the Kami for that bit of self-preservation!"

He reared back and pain bloomed in her stomach. Pushing her aside, he jumped to his feet.

"I won't fucking kill you. I don't think I could, either. But it's _done._ Over. You come after me or Nishiori again and I won't hesitate to make sure someone takes care of you." He turned back, looking at her over his shoulder. "Consider it payment for what I did."

"You don't get to decide that!" she shrieked as she rolled over in the grass and tried to climb onto her hands and knees. There was blood pooling beneath her, painting the green grass crimson, and she felt where he had run her through right above her hipbone. "It's not your decision!"

"Fuck off, Minako. Go home."

She jerked up, grabbing Hidaruma from the ground, and ran at him.


	28. Chapter 28

A/N: As usual, all the important information is lurking in the notes of the first two parts.

Enjoy!

* * *

"The Noble Sort"

* * *

"We've got visual, taichou!" One of the technicians shouted, and Kurotsuchi and Sasakibe turned to the large screen that dominated an entire wall of the room.

"Pull it up! Then get to work on the release waiver and set up a decent containment field. Their reiatsu alone could destroy the surrounding buildings."

The technician gaped at him but turned to do as he asked, weaving around the many others working to get the release waiver taken care of and the area contained.

Both men's attention was immediately captured by the images on the large screen, though, as Minako and the fuku-taizhou of Zero flicked into life on the screen. He had her down on the ground, immobilized, in what seemed to be a grassy field in the park.

"—_we were doing our fucking jobs while the rest of you were ignoring his schemes."_

"_Rape is not like accidentally putting in a bad time-morph code, Matsu!"_

At this exclamation from the woman they both looked at each other; one more question answered.

"_Yes, I took advantage of you. You want the full truth, then? Fine. I'll give it to you. You pranced around your oji-san's house like you were ten times better than the rest of us, Zero or not. The perfect little shinigami brat, that's what they called you. So when they pointed out that you were taichou-level but would never make it, I fucking took advantage of it."_

"The containment field should be ready in less than a minute, taichou!"

"Release waiver is taken care of, sirs!"

But their attention was still on the screen, especially Sasakibe's. His eyebrows were steadily climbing to his hairline, his hands balled into fists at his sides.

"_It was pay back. Poor little Minako, so helpless strapped to that gurney. Definite role reversal for you, wasn't it? Does that make you feel better? If it had been anyone else, they would've been safe. But you, you little bitch, you had it coming." _

"If she doesn't kill him, I'll help taichou do it myself," Sasakibe hissed.

"_Get off me,"_ they heard her hiss.

"_What? Does this bring back memories, Minako? Does it scare you? Or does it bring up better memories, hmm? Vegas in '93? Me fucking you in the bathroom of Pyro when we went to London?"_

"_It pisses me off!" _

"Do you think he realizes exactly how much trouble he's gotten himself into?" Kurostsuchi asked drolly. Sasakibe fought the urge to slap him—he didn't see how he could be calm while watching this. He knew they were friends, had once been very close to each other.

"_Well, you've been pissing me off for the last two centuries. So much better than the rest of us. Even when you were a defector, a fucking traitor! Even then you were too good for me, for any man. You threw it all back in my face. Even threw that ring back at me after years of leading me on, letting me think that I might have had a chance with you."_

"Containment field is operational, taichou!"

"_Thank the Kami for that bit of self-preservation!"_

They watched as his right arm swung backward, jabbing at her stomach. Then he pushed her roughly aside, jumping up. They could see the crimson stain blooming on the red dress she wore, even see her hand clenching as she fought not to grab it in reflex.

"Did he—"

Kurotsuchi glanced over at him. "Should we have a medical team on standby?"

A look of indecision crossed the First Division's fuku-taichou's face, but he shook his head.

"As few people as possible. There are already at least a dozen technicians who will know about this now," he said, his eyes sweeping through the room. "No more."

Kurotsuchi just shrugged.

Sasakibe turned suddenly, his eyes locking onto one of the technicians nearest him.

"You," Sasakibe growled as he grabbed the passing technician by the white lab coat they all wore, "go get the sou-taichou. Tell him it's an emergency involving Red Team."

The startled man nodded quickly, the papers he had scattering to the floor as he took off through the doors at a record pace.

"_I won't fucking kill you. I don't think I could, either. But it's done. Over. You come after me or Nishiori again and I won't hesitate to make sure someone takes care of you. Consider it payment for what I did."_

"_You don't get to decide that! It's not your decision!"_

"_Fuck off, Minako. Go home."_

They watched as she struggled to her knees, grabbing her sword before standing up and charging at him, only to be interrupted by a smaller body slamming into her from the left and a screeched "_no_!"

"_What the fuck, Akane!"_

"_The containment field message just came through. You can release! But you can't fucking charge in at him like that—you'll get yourself killed! How many times have you told me to stop and think before I act a fool?"_

"_Back up, Akane."_

"_Sensei—"_

"_Back up!" _they heard her scream before she roughly pushed the younger woman backwards repeatedly. "_We'll knock you out if you don't. You won't be able to handle the pressure."_

"_I don't want to do this, Minako…but I will if you leave me no choice."_

"_You don't get a choice. Go, Akane!"_

The redhead hesitated before apparently deciding it would be better to listen and then ran backwards, out of their view, as the two facing off in the middle of the park forced off their gigai and held their weapons out.

"_Why do you have to be so difficult, Minako?"_

"_You should have thought of that before you started all of this."_

Then waves of reiatsu were tearing through the park in circular arcs that would have ripped up trees and destroyed the buildings on the nearby streets if the containment field hadn't been set up. They both heard a technician in the background gasp at the power of the two fighters—most of them were now watching the encounter on the screen, not their station monitors.

"Leave me a body to dissect, Minako!" Kurotsuchi called out to the figure on the screen. His technicians just stared, in awe of their taichou's levity and the battle commencing on the screen.

"Let's hope she's alive when it's done," Sasakibe muttered, clenching his fists.

Kurotsuchi turned to him, eyes wide with surprise.

"You doubt her? Have you ever fought against her?" He leered at the older man, a nasty smirk on his face. "Don't underestimate her power; they did so and it's gotten them killed."

"Indeed, Kurotsuchi," the sou-taichou remarked dryly as he appeared behind them, eyes already focused on the screen.

All they could see was fire.

* * *

She didn't give him time to react as she let her reiatsu loose; she screamed at Hidaruma mentally—it would be his job to control them now since he had shown he could if they dared release all of her reiatsu—before screaming out "_Kogasu_!"

Every bit of ground within a twenty foot radius was immediately covered in hundreds of small flames, many of which were separate from the roiling fire taking over the grass. They rose slowly as she spun around, each separate flame rising into the air and zooming off to settle all around the field.

"Now that—that I don't remember seeing in your file," Matsu said, his zanpakutou—a short sword of some sort—held in a defensive stance in front of him.

"There are things about me oji-san made sure to keep out of any file in Seireitei," she growled, and then she was gone, zigzagging across the field with quick shunpo steps. "The few who've seen this didn't live to talk about it, either."

Their blades clanged as they met, the sheer force behind his swing throwing her backwards and into the air.

"How do you like my zanpakutou?" he asked whimsically. "_Kairiki_ is very deceptive—small and easy to hide, but released—"

He flicked the short sword, muttering out "_chikarazukude_," and the sword elongated, thickened, taking on the appearance of a large European broadsword. She could feel the reiatsu swirling around it, see how it could hit with as little force from him as possible but still push someone back as it utilized his reishi.

"How fitting," she said, disdain dripping from her words. "A deceptive zanpakutou for a deceptive man."

"And yours?" he said, grasping his sword with both hands and raising it in the air. "Constantly something hidden, something waiting in the wings. Don't think I've forgotten about that large fire you've started behind you."

"Insurance."

"Oh?" He pushed off his heel and raced toward her, his sword hammering down on her own and forcing her to bow her back and throw a leg back to even stay upright. She threw out her left hand, though, and one of the flames scattered about the battlefield zoomed into it at a speed no one could track.

She shoved it into his shoulder before he was able to even contemplate moving backwards.

"_Bitch!" _he shouted as he grabbed his right shoulder. It was smoking terribly, the suit he had worn that night literally welded to his skin.

She sent him an evil grin.

He flashed in her periphery, and she realized he was trying to come around her, to bear down on her from the side or the back, and she once again threw her left arm out. This time, though, she flashed through the air, coming to rest at one ball of flame she had called to from across the field.

His eyebrows rose comically, his sword falling a little in the air.

"What—"

"A hell of my own making, Matsu. I use them how I want. Just imagine fighting me in my _barriers_."

And they were off again, she using the flames scattered about to transport herself or attack him, he zooming behind her with his unbelievably fast shunpo or bearing down on her with his sword and massive waves of reiatsu. Their swords could be heard as they crashed together periodically, but nothing was visible other than a few quick reflections of the moonlight or the orange glow of the fire on the blades.

It was like a crazy game of tag. She was continually trying to stay a step ahead of him—his attacks were too powerful to fight him close-range. Thankfully, while she was well-trained for close combat, her attacks tended to be made for long-range damage.

They continued battling around the park, the balls of flame disappearing at a record pace as they were used. The light was slowly dimming as dozens of them disappeared every minute.

Then, there was a particularly loud boom as his sword swept hers aside, and Minako flew across the field into a tree.

"Ow," she huffed, wiping the blood from her chin.

She pushed up off of the ground, her eyes scanning the field for her opponent but not seeing him. There were barely fifty bell flames left, she realized, right before she saw his dark form materialize from the shadows to her right and zoom toward her.

"_Kasei_!" she screamed as he ran towards her, and the circle of flame she had created earlier was suddenly gone.

There was loud rumble from the earth below them as the ground split open around her, flame shooting up from the newly created crevice. She heard his muttered exclamation of surprise just as he slid to a stop barely three feet in front of the wall of flame that was blocking him from her.

He should have moved.

"_Hibashira!" _she screamed as her left hand shot into the air, and he screamed as the pillar of flame she was known for caught him.

"Shit!" she heard him screech as he flapped around, trying to pull the now-melted and smoldering clothing away from his burned skin. She smiled as she let her head fall back against the tree she was leaning up against; not only had she caught him, she'd bought some time to catch her breath. He wouldn't dare come through the wall of flame now.

_Well, everyone's injured, but I'd say we're doing pretty good._

She gave a dry laugh.

_Thanks for the vote of confidence, shishi._

_Well, we can't keep this up much longer. We have forty-six flames left. _

_We've already used that many?_ She exclaimed mentally, surprised that they had already gone through over two hundred of them.

_You've got to end it soon._

_I know, _she gasped out as she pushed off of the ground and climbed to her feet. _One more hit like that and we're done. My ribs are already broken._

_Stay back from him. Throw them at him or try and catch him with Hibashira again. Keep it long-range. Your sword fighting skills won't help you here, you know that. Get too close and you're dead._

She nodded.

_Kid__ō__?_

_No, not here. Trap him. Three seals should hold him long enough to bombard him with it. _

_He won't stay still long enough for that. We'll have to—_

_Not enough energy for six, onna. Form them wide and then pull them in around him. _

"_Ry__ō__ken-Jigoku no Akazora: Kaze-ni_," she stuttered out as she coughed up the blood now trickling down her throat. Her sword immediately widened, the six etched seals appearing before her eyes.

_Ready, shishi?_

He grinned darkly in her mind, fangs glistening.

She stepped through the curtain of flame, instantly spotting Matsu across the field still trying to pull his clothes off. He had gotten out of his jacket and button-up, but his undershirt and pants were literally glued to his skin, impossible to remove without medical assistance.

"In pain, Matsu?" she called as she stepped out of the shadow.

A dark look crossed his face as he raised his sword, and before he could finish calling out his attack she flashed to the right, her hand swiping across the first seal. With her shout of "_Dai-Ichi Raimon: Kai!"_ the sigil lit up, a flash of lightning striking the ground behind him.

She flashed to the right again, not a second before his sword crashed down in the spot she had been standing. The tree that had been behind her was gone, now, splintered into toothpick-sized pieces of wood.

"_Dai-ni Himon: Kai!"_ she called out as she swept her left hand across the second sigil, and a new bit of flame popped up at the second point of the triangle. She flashed away again but he managed to catch her with his attack, and she felt the concussive force of his reishi smash against her right side, the bones in her leg and arm cracking painfully.

"Fuck!" she screamed as she appeared right behind her first seal, staggering from the pain.

He was walking slowly towards her now, stepping into the middle of the field. He was grinning as if he had already won—smug bastard—his sword down at his side.

"Did that hurt, precious?" he sneered. "It won't hurt long, I promise."

She literally slammed her left hand against her blade, swiping it across the third seal and screaming out "_Dai-san Tenkamon! Sanmon no Akazora!_" He made one quick last attempt to get to her but as the third seal appeared and the barrier lines trapped him he was forced to a stop, the seal glowing in front of him.

"Release me," he growled, and she grinned at him as her left hand flicked in the air, drawing the triangle barrier closer around him. She left barely a five foot radius surrounding him before stepping back and allowing herself to fall to the grass.

"You are one stubborn son-of-a-bitch, you know that?"

He glared at her, one piece of burned hair falling to sit on his forehead.

He raised his sword high into the air above his head. "I'll blow through it, Minako," he warned, but before he could finish his stroke she forced her right arm up, palm facing him, and brought her left up in the air.

"_Hibashira!"_

The pillar of flame shot out of the earth and engulfed him as the few dozen balls of flame still scattered about the field zoomed toward her barrier. They floated around the pillar of flame until it subsided, then attached to his body and exploded.

When it was done he lay unmoving on the ground, his body smoking.

She flopped back with a heavy thud. She could feel Akane pacing near the street, waiting for her reiatsu to disappear so she could approach. Not five seconds after she contained it the girl was standing over her, a concerned look on her face.

"Lesson number two, Akane: if you're prepared to face someone in battle, never hesitate." She sent a dark glare to the sprawled form of her old lover. "It gets you killed."

"I'll remember that, sensei."

"I think I ruined your dress," she coughed out, throwing her left arm in the air for the girl to help her up. Akane grabbed her hand and pulled hard, jerking her to her feet and putting an arm around her waist. She hissed as the girl's hand met her ribs but didn't say anything; it hurt but she needed the support with her leg fractured.

"It'll be alright. At least you weren't fighting hand to hand—you would've flashed him." Akane gestured to the body in front of them and she waved her left hand, the barrier disappearing as they moved toward him.

"Lesson number three, Akane," she said, her voice hard as they approached the smoldering thing in front of them. "The double-tap."

"Huh—"

Akane was cut off by Minako stabbing the point of her sword through his neck and twisting it. There was no blood to be released by the wounds, but it didn't matter. There was now a large gaping hole in his throat.

He wasn't breathing; she couldn't feel the slightest twinge of reiatsu from his body.

"What the hell was that, sensei?"

"Don't kill them once, kill them twice. High level opponents have a nasty way of staying alive." She sighed as she shakily slid Hidaruma into his sheath. "Heh. And I didn't think I could kill him. Sure showed me, huh?"

"You have issues, sensei," the girl said as they began to move toward the car. "But it was a good battle."

"My issues have issues, girl. And trust me, it could've gone better. Oji-san can just wave his sword and incinerate them; I have to combine attacks to get the job done." She hopped valiantly across the field, bleeding and in pain, but spared the body behind them one last look. "You gonna take care of him?"

"I'm pretty sure Sasakibe already has someone on it. How the hell did you think I got the release and containment field?"

She gave the girl a dirty look as she helped her into the passenger seat of the car.

"I really wasn't worried about it then, to be honest." She gingerly pulled on her seatbelt, wincing as it hit broken bones and tender flesh. "Shit. My purse—"

"Already got it," the girl said, jerking her thumb toward the backseat. "And a nifty little souvenir."

Minako turned slowly and glanced in the backseat. Her eyebrows shot up when she saw her gigai, shoes, purse, and—oh. She couldn't stop the silly grin that bloomed on her face, and she shook her head as Akane got in the driver's seat.

"You're learning well, young Jedi."

She turned the keys in the ignition, a devious smile forming on her youthful face.

"I learn from the best, Obi-wan. So what now?" she asked as they pulled away from the curb.

"Just get me home and get someone to heal me."

"Hai, sensei."

* * *

"Nemu, collect the body and take care of any visible damage."

"Hai, Mayuri-sama," she replied softly as she moved to collect two of the division members at one of the far stations. They were gone quickly, without a backward glance at the room or the screen showing the man they were going to collect for dissection.

"Make sure his body is never found," the sou-taichou said, and Kurotsuchi grinned deviously. Many of the technicians in the room cringed and shrunk into themselves; the sou-taichou was in a _mood_ and the taichou was smiling too much for comfort.

"Of course." The painted man turned to the fuku-taichou between them, still smirking. "Will you underestimate her again?"

The man shook his head, still stunned at the impressive display of power from the fighters. He had never seen Minako-sama fight; it was a surprise of untold proportions to see how strong she truly was. It was little wonder she had been trusted with taking out three members of Zero.

"Sasakibe, get Hikaru and take her to them. She'll enjoy the chance to fuss over the girl."

He nodded at his taichou and literally disappeared from view.

Kurotsuchi moved to a computer not ten feet away, smile still glued to his face.

"Why was she never a taichou again, sou-taichou?"

The old man didn't reply; he simply turned on his heel, slowly making his way out of the room and to his quarters in the First Division's barracks.

* * *

A/N: Yeah, so NOT how that was supposed to go. Let me share something with you guys, and any fellow writers will understand this: Matsu took over. He wasn't supposed to be this guy, not from Zero, any of it. He started as just some human she had a relationship with. Well, about chapter 19 he rebelled, deciding he wouldn't just be a small-time guy. He wanted to be more. His personality is crazy, constantly changing—the psychological issues this character has are unreal. I don't think I even understand the character I created anymore. But it worked, amazingly, so I let him have his way. Then, in this chapter, he just changed everything around. My nice, scripted battle went out the window because he wanted something different.

My entire plot changed at the whim of one fictional character. It constantly amazes me how much fictional characters can take hold of the story and make it what they want, not what you want. It's not the first time I've had it happen, but it's never been like this.

And the Japanese Translations:

_Kogasu_: Scorch

_Kasei_: Conflagration

_Hibashira_: Pillar of Flame

_Kairiki_: Unbelievable strength (not exact)

_Chikarazukude_: By sheer strength (not exact)

_Ryōken-Jigoku no Akazora: Kaze-ni_: Hellhound of the Red Sky, on the Wind!

_Dai-ichi Raimon_: Kai!: First Gate, Lightning, Release

_Dai-ni Himon: Kai!_: Second Gate, Fire, Release

_Dai-san Tenkamon! Sanmon no Akazora!_: Third Gate, Fire from Lightning! Three Gates of the Red Sky!

_Oogama_: Scythe


	29. Chapter 29

A/N: As usual, all the important information is lurking in the notes of the first two parts.

Enjoy!

* * *

"The Noble Sort"

* * *

"The table, Akane. I don't want to ruin the upholstery," she muttered before the woman finally took the hint and steered her away from the couch and to the massive dining room table.

Akane left her leaning against the wall as she moved all of the papers, files, even mugs from old tea off of the wooden surface. It was hard to manage but they finally got her up on the table, prostrate along its length. It would be good, though; the blood might stain but they could always re-paint it.

"Move the chairs, too. Don't ruin the cushions."

"You're in that bad a shape and you're worried about fabric?" Akane asked in disbelief as she pushed the chairs back.

"Do you know how long it took me to get some of this furniture? I work crap jobs, girl. This is years of stuff I've accumulated." She stared at the western-style table she was laying on. "Some it very expensive," she whined.

"Stop pouting. You're alive, aren't you?"

"Barely."

Akane snorted as she moved back to the table, jerking at the side zipper on the dress. It was a painful maneuver but they eventually were able to lift her up, bit by bit, and slip it down her legs. She ended up half naked and quite a bit chilly on the dining room table, blood all over.

"Ooh," Akane hissed as she saw the spot where Matsu has stabbed his short sword straight through her abdomen. "That looks bad."

"But it isn't the most painful, actually. The ribs," she said, hissing herself as she gingerly touched them with three long fingers, "they're worse. And one is scratching my lung, I think."

Akane leaned forward over her, hands out to prod the ribs and see which ones were in really bad shape, when they were interrupted by loud, frantic knocking on the front door. They looked at each other, both suspicious.

_I think he brought you a healer, onna. Thank the Kami._ The dog groaned in her mind. _I'm in pain._

"It's 'Kibe. Answer it," she groaned, and the younger woman sped to the door. She heard her exclamation of surprise as she ushered two people in to the house, and even Minako felt shock take over when she saw who was with Sasakibe.

"Oh, Minako-dono. You're in quite a state, aren't you?" the wizened old servant said, already bustling to the table and checking her patient over from top to bottom.

Sasakibe, blushing beet red, turned in the doorway and made to move into the living room.

"What's wrong, 'Kibe? Not like you haven't seen it all before," she remarked wryly before hissing at the servant—now healer—as she prodded something very sore on her right leg. "Important bits are covered at least."

Akane smothered a giggle, but the man took the cue and stood by the door instead, arms crossed against his chest and his face still flushed.

"What injuries are you sure of, Minako-dono?"

"Run through here," she said, her hand coming up to barely touch the patch of reddened skin around the sword wound. "Broken ribs, right arm and leg are fractured, at least. Those are the important ones—everything is else is surface."

"Your eye and forehead?"

She rubbed the purple lump forming high on her face, wincing.

"He got me with his own. It'll be fine; he didn't break anything."

The woman nodded as her hands lit up a bright green, and she placed them over Minako's chest. The soothing healing reishi was immediately felt and Minako sighed, relaxing back onto the table; the only way she could be happier was if she wasn't laying in blood that was beginning to dry. She could hear Akane moving around in the kitchen, most likely making tea and something to give them after this was done and they were all settled.

"How did he break your arm, child? This is…unusual."

"His zanpakutou," she replied tiredly. "It used his reiatsu as a concussive force. It splintered a tree at one point. My mind was on forming the seals instead of getting up the speed to dodge him."

"A mistake in battle, Minako-dono?" She tsked. "Not like you."

_Mistake, old woman? We were at our best!_

Minako snorted.

"Not a mistake—he was just that powerful. His speed was awe-inspiring. I'm surprised I got past him as much as I did." She locked eyes with the older woman, sending her a soft smile. "Just be thankful Zero has to have release orders for bankai. I'd be toast otherwise."

"Perhaps," she murmured, still healing the worst of the injuries. "Would you find a blanket for her, Choujirou-san?"

The man nodded as he pushed off the wall, grateful to be given something to do and something that would get him out of the room for a moment. Minako gestured halfheartedly at the doorway that led to the hall and living room.

"There's a closet by the bathroom."

He was there and back much more quickly than he probably would have liked, and he unfolded the blanket and threw it over her legs and waist. Both women could see him fighting to pull it up to her shoulders—he always had been prudish—but he wouldn't take the chance of interfering with Hikaru's healing.

"Thanks," she said, her voice rough.

He nodded at her, and she could have sworn she saw the lines around his eye soften for just a moment before he was gone, this time taking up position in one of the chairs that had been pushed back against the wall.

Akane appeared not too long after, breaking the silence of the room with the clatter of the tea set.

"I've put some of those painkillers in one of these for you, sensei."

Minako gave her a grateful smile as Akane sat the cup of steaming tea where she could reach it before coming up to the head of the table and helping her bring up her shoulders and head enough that she could drink it. It slid down smoothly, even if it was hot enough to burn a little, and she sent the girl another look of thanks as she laid back, the drugs already flowing through her system.

"They don't take long," she said drowsily. "I'll be out soon."

_Yes, sleep. My favorite pastime._

_Don't we all know it, shishi._

Akane nodded, sitting another cup of tea down near Hikaru before moving out of her vision carrying two teacups, most likely for herself and Sasakibe.

The bright light above her was fading, as were the murmured sounds of the night outside. She let her heavy eyelids droop closed as the medicine took effect, rendering her unconscious.

* * *

"I don't think it's a good idea, Hikaru-san. I can't drive Minako's stick shift monstrosity and mine has blood all over the passenger seat—some humans can see it just like they see ghosts." She took a sip of the steaming tea in front of her. "We'll have to wait until Minako can drive or go on the bus, which will be hard since you don't have a gigai."

The old woman frowned over the pot of steaming stew but didn't question it further. Most likely she had no idea what the difference between a stick shift and an automatic was.

"I guess, though—I mean if it's really important, I can throw something over the seat and go by myself. I need to go to my apartment anyway and get the last of my stuff."

"You are moving here, yes?"

She nodded.

"Good. Neither of you should be alone. How Minako-dono even lives without a cook and maid, I hardly know." There was a scowl on the older woman's face like Akane had never seen before.

"She learned," Akane said, smiling, "just like the rest of us."

She hopped up off the stool and wandered over to the small side table near the kitchen door, the only place Minako ever kept her keys, purse, and other sort of effects she might need when she left. She dug through the small red satchel that Minako had carried the night before, digging through all the junk and pulling out the black wallet, taking a fistful of yen out of it.

"Should you be doing that?" Hikaru-san asked, although the warning was evident in her tone.

"Minako pays for food. Pays for everything, just about. I can't really work right now. I temp…sometimes…" Hikaru shot her a questioning look. "Humans have identification numbers now. You can't work, get a house, even a bank account without it. Minako has four of them, though, so she keeps all her money in accounts and can work sometimes. She's an old pro at getting used numbers or applying for new ones."

"The one she's using right now," Akane said, laughter in her voice, "they think she's an American immigrant. She spun some story about coming over here with her boyfriend. She's going through the citizenship motions to keep the number active."

"It is so hard, then, living in exile?" the servant asked, and Akane could hear the concern for her sensei in the woman's voice.

It was different, really. For Akane, Minako had always been the strong one, the one who took care of everybody in her group on the network. She had never imagined how it must have been for her once upon a time, coming to a place without the support she once had.

"It can be," she admitted. "The first bit…you're scared, lonely, usually broke. That's when most exiles just—well, we don't have that problem anymore. There's always someone on the network that will help them. You get a gigai to hide, they help you learn how to get jobs that pay cash, find apartments with landlords that won't ask too many questions."

"Minako even helped me get into university, although I didn't finish. I'm not…I'm not good at all that education stuff." She sent a dazzling smile to the woman over the stove; she looked positively heartbroken at the idea of what her charge must have went through. "It's not that bad after. You make friends, get a job, learn when to move and how to survive. And if you do it right, you have connections everywhere."

Silence fell over the room—it was uncomfortable and tense.

"Minako traveled the world, did you know?" she asked whimsically.

"I didn't, no," the servant said softly.

"Everything is at her oji-san's somewhere—she took it last time—but she had souvenirs from everywhere. She spent the fifties and sixties in the States and Europe, traveled all over in the seventies, and the eighties here and in England. Even in the last two decades she's traveled—lived in the States, went to Africa, Australia, China, Brazil. She's been everywhere you could possibly think of. Said it kept her busy."

"I imagine. She was always a curious child."

"Really?" Akane asked as she moved to the stool again. She had only heard bits and pieces about her sensei's childhood, mostly from the woman herself. And it tended not to be good.

Groceries could wait.

"Very inquisitive. Into everything, always following her oji-san. Minako-dono knew she would be a shinigami from the moment she saw Genryuusai-dono use his shikai as a young girl."

The maid had a soft smile on her face as she stirred the stew absently, most likely remembering the young girl her sensei once was.

"I wouldn't know about _that_," Akane said playfully. "I've only heard the bad parts. And very few of those."

"There were hard times," Hikaru-san admitted, "Her father died when she was very young, and Arisu-dono—some women are just not made to handle young children. And Minako-dono was a spirited child. Kind, but always in trouble."

"Sensei says her mom was a right bitch, actually, but that they got along well later."

The older woman sent her a disapproving look at her profanity, but nodded.

"Arisu-dono was not a perfect mother, but she did what she could. It was _very_ different; Minako was not…planned. And losing her husband was terribly hard on her—Minako has her mother's eyes but looks _just like_ her father."

It was unspoken, but Akane got it. Her sensei's mother couldn't look at her own child without seeing her dead husband. And she hadn't been an exactly welcome intrusion in her parents' marriage, at least in some ways. She couldn't really understand it, but she could guess it would have been hard.

"But Genryuusai-dono doted on her. She was like his own child, and I must say I was much the same. It had been so long since either of us had been around children. I remember," the woman laughed; it was a gentle, tinkling sound unlike anything Akane had ever heard, "once, when she was maybe just old enough to begin consideration for the academy, that he gave her a doll of a female shinigami. She made it a wooden sword out of a stick and spent hours in the dojo pretending to train the little wooden zanpakutou. She was incredibly angry when Genryuusai-dono's students told her it would never work."

"Oh?"

"She kicked Shunsui-san in the shin and ran, screaming, into Genryuusai-dono's study. She was still much too young to begin at the academy—he was determined that she would not be a child prodigy—so he bought her a practice sword and let her watch as they trained so she could begin learning kata. It was not long before she bonded with her sword spirit."

Akane smiled.

It was hard to imagine her tough sensei as a little girl, but it was the obvious she had been, she knew, considering Minako was born in Seireitei.

The maid looked at her, suddenly serious, and pulled the stew off of the stove.

"He is not angry with her, but she has hurt him terribly. You must understand that," she pleaded, and Akane could see how much this woman loved the family she served.

"He's hurt her more than you can ever imagine. I don't feel the least bit sorry for him."

Her face was set in a scowl, her words hard and dark. She wasn't mad at the woman in front of her, but she felt that what he had done couldn't possibly be defended, not to someone who had seen what his manipulation had wrought.

"He does care for her, Akane-san."

"He doesn't show it well," she muttered, tracing the rim of her mug. "Has she ever been allowed to go for anything she wanted to accomplish? Has he ever just listened to her?"

"Rarely," she conceded. "He believes he knows best. Much of the time he does. Do not think I do not see what he has done to her; I was the one to comfort her when she came home from passing the taichou exam only to be told he would not let her even consider a promotion. There were other…considerations, yes, but he never told her of them."

"She knows."

They both heard the shower shut off in the bathroom. Hikaru turned to the stew and began ladling it into three bowls, moving to set them on the high counter.

"Akane-san," she said softly, whispering, "nothing good can come of their scheming. Minako is already too far in to ever let herself break free, but you—you do not have to be here when it all falls apart. I would be happiest if you would both abandon this course, but I know she will not."

"But I will be here," she said just as softly. "I owe her my life."

"I am afraid he will let both of you take the consequences, merely out of spite. I know she will not be immune to his wrath, but you could be."

"Let me worry about myself, Hikaru-san."

The woman sent her one more long, pleading look before sighing and moving to her own stool, climbing up gracefully.

They both heard Minako enter the kitchen, a pair of sleeping pants and a tank top hanging off her too-thin frame. Hikaru pursed her lips but said nothing. Akane gestured to the stew as her sensei climbed up on the last stool gingerly, wincing from the pain of jostling her injuries. They were healed but not fully; Hikaru wasn't a trained healer and was incapable of that level of control.

The servant could be right, she knew. He could let them take the fall for everything they had done and just be glad that another threat was out of the way. But she was there now, and she would be there until the end. She owed the battered woman next to her too much to just walk away now.

It wasn't like she had anything to lose anyway—other than the woman that was like a mother, sitting right next to her.

* * *

"Well, then, Juu?" Shunsui said from his spot on the couch. Even Nanao looked up from her paperwork at his entrance.

"There _was_ some sort of epic battle last night. The two teams that came back this morning for rotation were chattering about being blocked from an entire swath of downtown Karakura by a containment field."

Both men's eyes were sparkling; they were relishing the mystery.

"Perhaps," Shunsui murmured, "I should tell you what I found out, then." He pushed his sakkat up just enough to lock eyes with the man now sitting across from him. "Hikaru-san left late last night and hasn't been back since."

"Aa."

Nanao stared at them both, sitting in the office plotting and digging while she worked. Part of her wanted to be angry, but part of her was still, even all these years later, just happy they were still around to engage in this sort of behavior.

"Yoruichi-san perhaps, Shunsui?"

"No," Nanao said, drawing two sets of eyes. "They have their own healer. They wouldn't need the extra support." She moved the now-complete form in front of her to the outbox before picking up a new one from her to-do pile. "Besides—you're both forgetting the most important question."

"Oh, Nanao-chan?" her taichou drawled.

"Indeed, Nanao-san, I would like to know as well," the pale taichou said, shooting her a smile.

She looked up at them, her own eyes conveying exactly how stupid she thought they were being.

"Don't ask who she had to heal, ask who the shinigami she went to heal was fighting, that a containment field and a special release waiver was needed."

"How do you—"

"I'm not a taichou, Ukitake-taichou. People will talk to me that would never consider gossiping about the recent news with you." She raised an eyebrow at him before turning back to her paperwork. "I know that there are at least twenty members of the Twelfth that won't say anything about last night when they were fine spreading the news about Zero being monitored. And I know that the sou-taichou was in the Twelfth Division last night."

Both men just stared at her in shock.

Meanwhile, across Seireitei, the sou-taichou himself was meeting with a man he hated to see.

The leader of Zero—a tall, thin man with long black hair—was standing in front of his desk in his study. His eyes were burning holes in the older man's face; there was little doubt that he knew his fuku-taichou was dead. The body might never be found, but Yamamoto doubted there weren't other ways for him to know.

He wouldn't put tracking devices past them.

The man had been there early this morning, and the conspicuous absence of his maid had been noted very quickly. The sou-taichou had spun a story—it wasn't the first time such was required of him—but he was sure the Royal Guard in front of him did not believe a bit of it.

"You realize," he said as he fiddled with a stone statue on the front of the desk, "that I will know what happened sooner or later. If one of your men were involved, it would be better to just hand them over now."

"Don't assume we had any involvement in your fuku-taichou's disappearance," he said dryly.

"Death, Yamamoto, not disappearance. Matsuno is _dead._ Not only am I furious over his loss, I'm—worried, you could say. The idea that you have shinigami other than your taichou wandering around able to take out two of my men—it's unsettling."

He looked up, his eyes locking with the older man's.

"I would be very put out to learn that you had any involvement in this."

"You would dare," Yamamoto hissed, sitting forward in his chair.

"I will do what I must to find out exactly what is happening here under your very nose, yes."

"Perhaps you should keep such an eye on your own forces, then. Mine are well-behaved."

"Indeed," the Zero member said sarcastically, his eyebrows rising. "Did you not just fight a war against a traitor, Yamamoto? Or was I mistaken?"

"Aizen is not something you have to worry about anymore. He has been taken care of."

The man let the stone statue fall to desk roughly, and Yamamoto fought the urge to pull his zanpakutou and slice the man in half for his treatment of someone else's personal belongings. Instead he stood, leaning on his cane, and glared at the man in front of him.

"Is there anything else?"

"I don't think so." The man turned, his cloak coming up to cover his silver haori. He was out of sight, but his voice came in loud and clear. "But I imagine we'll see each other soon."

The door to the study opened and then shut quickly, and he sunk back into his chair, his remaining hand coming up to rub at his forehead.

One more. There was only one more.


	30. Chapter 30

A/N: As usual, all the important information is lurking in the notes of the first two parts.

Merry Christmas!

Enjoy!

* * *

"The Noble Sort"

* * *

_That Sunday_

"So, what is all this?" Akane asked as she entered the dining room.

"Preparation," Minako remarked dryly.

The younger woman looked at the piles of stuff spread out on the dining room table, not seeing how anything could be considered preparation. Not for a one-on-one battle with Nishiori, anyway. Maybe if they were robbing a bank…

"These," Minako said as she pointed to four cell phones laid side by side, "are for communication. Maybe for a sound distraction; I'm not too sure on that. These," she said, pointing to the two Zero cloaks they had been able to grab after taking out Rashogen and Matsuno, "are for us to be able to move without being noticed. Probably for fighting, as well. Nishiori's alone—he won't be stupid."

The girl nodded, slurping out of her bowl of noodles.

"And the rest?"

Minako fingered one of the two silver pins on the table, grinning when one of the phones beeped loudly in the quiet house.

"These are tracking devices. One for oji-san, which will be a bitch to get on him. The other is for Sasakibe, who will probably just carry the damn thing around if you ask him nicely enough." She furrowed her brow. "I had considered another one, to tag Nishiori just in case he was able to run, but I have a better back-up plan."

"That's why you have four phones instead of two, huh?"

"Precisely. And these are reiatsu inhibitors—yes," she said as she saw the look the girl shot her, "the same ones they use for prisoners. But these we can remove at will, just like a bracelet. It will keep us fully hidden from anyone's senses, even Nishiori's. And they've been tweaked. You won't be totally defenseless with it on."

"Do I want to know—"

"Probably not," she replied wryly. "It took calling in more favors than I ever thought possible, especially considering the fact that I'm 'dead.'"

"And _those?"_ Akane asked, her voice wavering. "They're useless on shinigami, right?"

Minako's smirk was positively evil as she picked up one of the black weapons, the light glinting off the cool metal.

"Not when they're modified correctly. Isamu's modified them where they have one shot each—only one, _remember_ _that_, Akane—and there's a high level kidō spell time-coded into the ammunition. When the bullet separates—it'll just fly through anyone it's aimed at—the spell will be released. It'll do its job just as planned. And they make for a great scare tactic."

"But why is it all needed, Minako? If we're just gonna hunt him down like the others—"

"We're _not_," she said, her voice hard as she let the weapon fall back to the table from her hand. "He knows he's the last one; he knows I'm alive now I'm sure. He won't let himself be hunted down." She turned to the girl, a ferocious look on her face. "He'll either bury himself so deep in Zero that we can't get to him without ripping through half the division—which is impossible for us to do—or he'll do what any scared, cornered criminal would do and try to take out the evidence. And then run."

"What do you mean?" she asked. "What evidence?"

"Us. Oji-san. Sasakibe. Even Aizen, most likely. He's the only one left to go down for it—he'll try to eliminate anyone who knows anything about it or anyone he thinks knows about it. But he can't find us, and he can't get to Aizen that easily. It's one thing to visit him, but you can't get anywhere near him."

"So there's only one real target for him now," Akane said, her voice breathy and eyes wide.

"Oji-san. He'll hope to take them out somehow and draw me out into the open, pin it all on me. Well, that's how oji-san's letter explained it. I'm inclined to agree, although I have some doubts."

"But it's—it's ridiculous! You can't just take down the sou-taichou! He has to know that!"

"He would if he was thinking," she said sarcastically. "He'll be scared and stupid. It's how it goes, trust me. I've been there before. Plus, oji-san's missing an arm. He won't be the only one thinking he can take him out now—not my fault they're stupid enough to think that way."

"So all this is to—what? I get what you're saying, but it makes no sense."

"He'll move quickly, so we move quickly. He would've found out yesterday that Matsu's dead, he'll spend today plotting, and he'll move sometime in the next few days. Most likely try to get to them when he can slip in—when they're going to or leaving work, having a meeting, something. Or he'll go for the offices, try to grab the evidence and run. That'll be his last resort."

"So…"

"We're leaving tonight. Kenta and Isamu are both on standby and will move into Rukongai at the same time. We're gonna get those transmitters on oji-san and 'Kibe and stick with them day and night until he makes his move. When he does, we'll have back-up. It might not be fair, but four against one assures he won't be getting away from this." She shot the girl a worried look. "And I'm not letting you go in with one of those cloaks and follow 'Kibe without back-up at your beck and call."

"But you're going to let me, finally? I finally get to do something other than sit here?" she asked excitedly, bouncing in anticipation.

"I told you," she said sarcastically, "stick around and you'll find out the hard way."

Akane stared, amazed at the detailed plan the woman had come up with in under two days. Although she had probably been planning longer; these weren't things you could get that quickly. Especially the inhibitors…what kind of connection would she have in the corps that she could get that kind of stuff? Maybe it was one of the boys' connections?

"So the cloaks and inhibitors hide us, the transmitters track them, and the phones are for comm. I got that. But what are the guns for?"

Her sensei shot her a look that opened a pit of fear in the bottom of her stomach. Her eyes were dead, lifeless—unusual for the fiery woman.

"Lesson number four: insurance. Always have a way out—never walk into a battle you might lose and not have a back-up strategy." She picked the gun up, sliding it into the waistband of her black pants. It fit snugly between the fabric and the small of her back. The inhibitor was slid onto her wrist, the cell phone into her pocket. "Use yours how you will. I'm not going to let Zero take me in—_no matter what I have to do_."

Hikaru-san had been correct, Akane realized grimly. Minako was in way too deep to ever get out; the woman had made sure that her death would be on her terms.

* * *

They reached the trees surrounding the Yamamoto property long before sunset, but Minako stopped their progress, picking a shady, hidden area and letting herself collapse with a sigh.

Akane followed her sensei's lead, even though she was suspicious about why they had stopped. Especially with Minako now taking the cloak off.

"I'm rethinking some things, sorry," she said, shooting a worried glance at her student.

_As you should, onna. This plan was ridiculous._

_Thanks for the confidence, shishi._

"Like what?"

"Just different things. Trying to run through everything in my mind; once we go in there, we're trapped in a scenario—no changes."

"But—but why?" Akane asked, incredulous. "I thought you had this all worked out."

"Why? Because I don't like to march into situations without thinking everything through. And two days wasn't exactly a lot of time to plan this out." She tossed her hair. "Besides, I need a little more shadow on the lawn before we just hop on across. I don't feel like getting caught."

Akane was silent. Minako almost grinned at the "thinking" look that had come over her face.

"You're right," she said slowly.

_We are always right, red one._

Minako snorted.

"You latch onto that thought and hold tight."

"Funny, sensei. Real funny."

She did grin this time.

She shrugged and rolled her right shoulder; she still wasn't fully healed and parts of her were hurting. Then she stood up slowly, gesturing at the house with her chin. "I think the sun's down enough—let's go."

Akane got up quickly and fell into step behind her, and they moved out of the safety of the trees into the open yard in front of them. There were shadows everywhere, thankfully, due to the setting sun, but they still moved quickly and quietly. They used the bushes near her mother's old home to hide at first, then the small patch of trees and tall grass near the pond. Finally, they zoomed across the open space between the house and the pond, their shunpo soundless.

It took them less than a minute to cross the grass and get to the relative safety of the veranda, and they hid near the corner of the house, right by the entrance near the kitchen.

"Ready?" she whispered.

"Yeah," Akane replied, red hair bobbing with her head.

Minako slid the door open quietly, and their footsteps were nonexistent even in the silence of the house.

They could hear Hikaru humming softly in the kitchen as they passed, but they were heading straight for the lesser-used sitting area, the least formal public room in the house. Only family tended to use the room, and she could feel her oji-san there, alone.

They tiptoed down the hall and around the corner quietly, coming to a stop at the large entrance hall.

Minako put her finger to her mouth and gestured at the door opposite them; her uncle was in there. They slowly made their way across the large area, making sure to stay far to the left where he wouldn't be able to see them from inside the room if they removed their cloaks. They came to a stop right beside the door.

It was open; she could see her uncle sitting at the low table in the center of the room, his attention on what seemed to be a stack of calligraphy or paperwork. At this distance the writing was undistinguishable, although she recognized form 86-3, one of the budget forms—

"Are you going to lurk in the hall or come in to explain why you are here?"

They both cringed, sinking down into the comforting invisibility of the cloaks they wore. Even shishi was cringing into a corner in her head, his fur bristling from her uncle's scolding tone.

Then she sighed, throwing the cloak off of her head and pulling it from her shoulders before striding into the room and throwing it haphazardly across one of the few western-style chairs present. She would at least look like she had confidence. It always made him easier to stand up to if she looked the part.

"Oji-sama," she said, bowing at the waist as she came to a stop before him.

"Niece," he replied, a stubborn something present in his voice. He was in a _mood_ apparently.

She sank to the floor as gracefully as possible, sitting directly across from him at the low table. She watched as Akane shrugged out of her own cloak, keeping it in her arms as she moved to take one of the western-style chairs nearest the bookcases. The girl was trembling a little, obviously nervous, although she was holding together better than Minako had ever thought she would.

Akane had done well interacting with her uncle so far, but dropping something like this on him was likely to bring out his bad side. Even Akane could see that, and the anticipation of his temper was already causing her to stress over the situation.

"To what do I owe this…unexpected visit?"

"Nishiori-san."

"Oh? Even while tracking him, you are not to be in Seireitei without warning, Minako."

His voice was hard and she fought the urge to flinch. It was only going to get worse as the conversation went on, she knew. He would hate the idea that she would be trailing him.

"He's going to come after you, you told me that, oji-sama."

"Hmm."

"I intend to be here to meet him when he does."

He set his brush down before moving the sheet of paper he was working on to the side, then he picked up another. Obviously the loss of part of his left arm hadn't stopped him from working.

"I am capable of defeating him if he should do so."

"This is my job, oji-sama. I will be the one to deal with him." She traced the kanji he had drawn with her eyes, afraid to look at him directly. "You will not be implicated in this."

"I already have been," he replied dryly, not looking up from his calligraphy. "The leader of the Royal Guard paid me a visit early yesterday."

She felt shock take over her body, gooseflesh spreading down her arms. Zero already thought he had some involvement in it, even if it was something small. She had intended to make sure that wouldn't happen—she should've known better. Matsu wasn't that stupid; Nishiori probably wasn't either. And their leader, he was levels above them.

"I am truly sorry, then, oji-sama," she said, her head bowed. "I will be sure to keep—"

"You will stop with this nonsense, that is what you will do!" he boomed suddenly, his brush flying down to the table and slinging ink all over the paper and the polished wooden surface.

"Oji-sama—"

"I have had enough of this. You will cease your petty, childish display at once and—"

"_I did not start this, oji-sama_," she said, her voice dangerously low and vibrating with anger, her mask of civility gone, "you did, three years ago. I did what I had to but _you_ are the one that's made it worse."

He stared at her, his eyes hard, before allowing one word to slip past his lips.

"Leave."

His voice was made of pure stone.

"_Leave_."

Minako stared at him, shock written all over her face, ready to protest, but then she realized he wasn't looking at her any longer. His attention was on Akane, the poor girl, who was now sitting ramrod straight in her chair and looking more scared than anyone Minako had ever seen. She was nodding, obviously understanding his last statement was directed at her, and scrambling from the chair as quickly as possible now, only stopping to throw her cloak over Minako's.

"Come, child," Minako heard Hikaru say from the doorway, most likely called to the room by her uncle's fit of temper, "I'll make you something to eat."

The maid sent them both a stern look before slamming the door shut.

"Nonsense, oji-sama?" she asked threateningly.

"It is utter nonsense. You always have to be difficult." His hand, now resting on the table, clenched and unclenched. "If you had obeyed my wishes years ago we would not be in this position—"

"_Bullshit_."

"Do not speak to me that way, do you understand me?" he said, his eyes glaring holes in her face. "I am _still_ your uncle, I still demand your respect!"

"You have never given me any!" she screamed as she jerked upright and to her feet, pacing the tatami mat. "You've done everything you ever could to make my life hell, yet you want my respect? Hell," she said, shrugging, her arm flinging wildly about, "I came here to _protect_ you and you still treat me like I'm dirt beneath your feet."

"I have never—"

She stopped, turning toward him.

"Really?" she asked, disbelieving. "Never a promotion when I deserved it. Never listening to me. I feared the loss of whatever little regard you might have had for me so much I fucking _left_ because of you!" She let out a shuddering breath, willing her eyes not to let the tears she could feel forming fall. She hadn't cried in years. "I thanked every deity I knew that I wasn't pregnant—I wouldn't put any kid through what _I_ went through growing up, wouldn't let someone else know what it was to be _unwanted_ in your own fucking _family_. But even then I wouldn't return—you- you-gah!"

She whipped around with a shout, flinging her hands about and looking for something good and smashable to throw.

"I could never be on good terms with you both! When mother finally cared enough to know me, I was gone and you hated me for leaving!"

"Even if your mother did not treat you well, I never treated you as if you were a burden, Minako. I never _once_ said you were unwanted. As for not believing your story when you approached us, can you truly blame me?"

"Yes, I can! I can blame you all I want!" She knew it was childish, but it had felt good to finally say it. "You're disbelief cost me eighty years of pain and isolation! There were nights I would _dream_—my best dreams...but I always woke up."

"Eventually it got easier. I learned to deal with it, I carved out some sort of life for myself. Was I happy?" She laughed; it was scornful, mocking. "Of course not. But it was something better than just existing. And then," she said, her voice breaking as she slumped in on herself, shoulders falling, "and then…you brought me back. You couldn't leave me alone."

"_Silence_—"

"No! I took the only road I had. They would have killed me otherwise. And be honest, you wouldn't have lifted a finger to protect me from Central or Zero." She turned to face him again, eyes red and puffy but no tears actually showing. "But you let me have a- a taste of what it would be like before you made sure to force me away again."

"I never _forced_ you to leave," he said, his fist slamming down onto the table. "You _chose_ to leave."

"Yes," she said wetly, "I chose to leave instead of embroiling you in all of this. Instead of staying here—you had just told me you thought me unworthy of your student. You called me a liar, a _whore_, and you thought I would stay, after _that_?"

"_Minako_, I never—" he said, his voice hushed.

"You did!" she shrieked. "I had finally found something to keep me here, I wasn't alone for the first time in decades—you looked at me like I was the scum on the bottom of your shoe— you called me a _whore. _I thought you, of all people, knew better."

Her eyes scanned the room, quickly, but she couldn't find—

There.

There was some, probably priceless, vase sitting on one of the bookshelves. She crossed to it, let out a loud shriek, and smashed in into pieces on the floor. It helped take the edge off, but the anger and the devastation that had been locked inside her for years was still there, still simmering.

"You thought so little of me, I- I- I've given up on trying to figure out what type of punishment this is," she said, her voice watery. She slid down the bookcase into a crumpled position on the tatami mat, her hands cradling her face. The tears couldn't be stopped anymore.

"What does that mean?" he asked, his voice low, his tone wary.

"When this is done, I have nothing," she sobbed even as she fought for control of her emotions. "You've taken it all."

"What do you mean?" he repeated, his voice still low, although it had taken on a dangerous tint.

She was silent.

She rubbed at her eyes and raised her face to his as she finally felt the numbness take over. It wasn't emotional control but it was better than the blubbering, the crying. The numbness meant pain, yes, usually so much pain she couldn't even feel anymore, but it also meant no crying.

"For eighty years I've thought of nothing but revenge. I've lost my home, my pride, I've killed a man I once—when it's done, I'm done. I won't let you take the last thing I have—I won't rot in your prison," she said, her tone emotionless and her eyes almost dead as she stared at him. "I won't let you take my life; I'll do it _myself_ before I let you have that, too."

He was up and moving before her brain could even process it, his hand jerking her from the floor by the wrist and pushing her against the bookcase. His face was close to hers—even now he was taller than she—and his eyes were open fully, the brown orbs flashing angrily.

"_You will do no such thing_," he said, his eyes glittering dangerously. "I have not worked day and night to keep you out of prison so you can kill yourself at the first opportunity. You are supposed to be stronger than that—only the _weak_ take such a cowardly action as a solution."

She stared up at him, shock written on her face and her mouth hanging open.

"I was angry," he said forcefully as he pulled her to him awkwardly, hugging her with his only arm. "Too many decisions have been made in anger; I will not let you decide this in such a manner."

"But you—"

"I have said many things in anger. You have always been too _stubborn_, too _spirited_. But that you would actually believe some of them—do you have so little sense?" She felt him take in a shuddering breath. "You were the child _I_ never had, even if your mother and father never wanted you."

"I—"

"I have always loved you as if you were my own. Even when I was angry with you. Even when I was punishing you."

She let out a gasp of surprise as her arms came up to encircle him.

It was the first time in her life, she was pretty sure, that anyone had ever said that to her and meant it. Only one other person had ever even said the words, and he had raped her. In her mind, nothing Matsu had ever said counted anymore, even if it was possible he meant it at some point.

"Do you understand?"

"Hai," she said softly, the anger flowing away. She felt pounds lighter; the weight that had been sitting on her chest for the past three years was gone now.

Was it all done? Probably not, she knew. There was still too much to say. But so much of what had been festering inside her the past few years was out, now, no longer eating away at her. Perhaps it could be the new start they should have had three years ago.

He pulled back, stepping away and composing himself, before he shot her a look.

"Are you rational?" he asked dryly.

She felt a smile begin to form on her face at the very expected question, and she nodded, biting her lower lip to keep from laughing. She wiped the tears from her face, moving to follow him back to the table. Now that the shouting was done, Hikaru would be bringing in tea soon.

She never made it there, though.

The door slid open and she heard her former taichou's familiar "Yama-jii-" and then only silence as he stared at her, shock written on his face.

* * *

Things in the kitchen were somewhat tense, although the tea was helping Akane calm down and the explosive argument between the two living members of the Yamamoto clan was nothing new to Hikaru.

But each woman knew this was somewhat different. Finally, after years of stewing and letting everything build, they would have it out and be done with it, for better or worse. There would be no more tiptoeing around the subject for anyone. It would all be out in the open, finally.

"Would you like a rice cake, Akane-san? I have a few left from tea earlier. I was preparing to start the evening meal, unfortunately—nothing is ready yet."

"No thank you, Hikaru-san," Akane murmured politely. "Not really hungry."

The servant patted her on the shoulder.

"They can be unnerving, I know. Both Genryuusai-dono and Minako-dono have explosive tempers. They should have known not to let this go as long as it has; it only ever makes it worse."

"Will—" Akane gulped, looking away. "Will he hurt her?"

Hikaru looked at her aghast.

"Of course not, child! They are both fiery, yes, but neither has ever become physical in such a fight. They have argued on the training grounds before, but they have never truly hurt each other in such a manner. Swords have been pulled before, and there have been times—but they have never done actual harm. Words are enough; you see how much damage they have done."

"Mmhmm."

"It will be better, actually." Hikaru laughed softly at the look of pure astonishment the young woman sent her way. "It will. They tend to do much better once they have cleared the air."

"Really?" she asked skeptically.

"I have not served this family all these years and not learned their ways. It is how they resolve their problems, Akane-san. They let everything build up inside until they can no longer control it. Then the fire-nature takes its natural course—they explode at each other, dear. But it burns shortly."

"I hope you're right about—"

They both turned at the sound of knocking on the wooden frame of the door near the kitchen, startled.

"Are you expecting anyone, Hikaru-san?"

"Indeed, no. And only a select few would use the garden entrance," Hikaru murmured as Akane moved toward the door.

Both felt their stomachs drop as they saw the silhouette of Kyouraku-taichou through the thin door, his sakkat casting a huge shadow in the light of the setting sun. Akane gulped, turning to Hikaru for guidance, but the older woman just shook her head, eyes wide. She wasn't sure what to do either.

Although they both knew he had to be let in; he knew that Hikaru was there, surely. She rarely left.

Akane slid the door open, bowing slightly as she moved to the side to allow him to enter, and she breathed a sigh of relief when Hikaru stepped forward, ushering him into the kitchen and immediately drawing his attention. She had a cup of tea placed in front of him before he could even ask for the sou-taichou.

"Shunsui-san, what brings you our way this evening? You have not been by in at least a month!" Hikaru said, her pleasant smile firmly in place.

"Ah, I just need to speak to Yama-jii for a minute. I'll be out of your hair soon, Hikaru-san."

"Nonsense!" she replied, bustling about the kitchen and adding a rice cake to go with his tea. "I only wish I saw you more often. I do miss having the house full of you young people."

"Young, Hikaru-san?" he asked, winking at her.

"To me, you are and will always be young, Shunsui-san."

His eyes lit upon Akane, who was standing very still and quiet by the entrance to the kitchen. She was hoping she wouldn't be noticed, would have given anything to have her cloak at that moment—but it was too late. She should have known better; Minako had told her tons of stories about her former taichou and his love of women, his intelligence, his true capabilities.

"And your guest, Hikaru-san? I do not believe I have met her, but I was sure I knew all the pretty ladies!"

"This is Akane-san," Hikaru said, and Akane bowed, hoping she was hiding her trembling from the very intelligent, very powerful man in front of her. "She is one of Genryuusai-dono's newest clerks. Very helpful. I believe he has her on a special mission at present."

"Hai, Hikaru-san," Akane said softly, hoping it would be enough to fill his interest without leaving him wanting to know more.

"Well, don't let him work you too hard," he said teasingly.

Akane just nodded, returning her gaze to the floor. Her mind was racing as she tried to figure out whether or not she should warn the two in the other room that there was company or if they should just try to get rid of him.

"Quiet one, isn't she?"

"Sometimes, Shunsui-san. But where is your young lady? Have you given her time to herself tonight?"

"She'll be meeting me at the division later. She was just dropping something by for a friend. I'm hoping to sweet-talk her into a night at the loveliest little teahouse in the sixth district. A night of my fair Nanao-chan, the finest sake, and beautiful music!"

"I am sure she cannot resist your charm, although she had better be the only one you try to charm these days," the servant said warningly, giving him a stern look.

"Of course, Hikaru-san, but—"

He was cut off by a loud shriek. Both women jumped, and he looked sideways at each of them.

"Is something going on?" he asked, his brown eyes shining with curiosity under his sakkat. "I did not sense anyone else in the house. Come to think of it, Akane-san, I did not sense you…"

Akane slowly moved to block the doorway, knowing there was no chance of her being able to stop him if he wished to leave but hoping to at least put up some resistance.

"I think Genryuusai-dono's meeting is not going well."

Akane nodded. God, her sensei had a set of lungs!

Then they all three heard something crash to the floor and shatter. Both women flinched as he stood from his seat at the small kitchen table, his teasing look no longer present. He was all taichou, now, and he looked ready to march into the other room and find out exactly what was going on.

"Kyouraku-taichou, please—" Akane said, hands out in front of her as she tried to persuade him to sit back down, stay in the room, _not_ investigate what he was hearing.

"Perhaps I should look in on sensei, make sure everything is okay," he said, steel in his voice. He very gently put his large hands on Akane's shoulders, scooting her to the side slowly, but she grabbed onto his arm.

"_Please_, don't interfere—"

"I have to agree with Akane-san, you should just wait until Genryuusai-dono is done—Shunsui-san!"

He was already moving down the hall, though, moving straight to the closed door.

Both women followed, begging him to leave it alone, that he could meet with the man as soon as his meeting was over, but he was persistent. Something had been going on for weeks and he finally had proof that Yama-jii was in on it. It was too good to pass up.

There was also a niggling worry in the back of his mind. Someone was frustrated, perhaps even angry, and they could pose a threat to the sou-taichou. While he had full trust in Yama-jii's abilities and knew the man could protect himself, he would not sit idle while there was a potential threat in the house.

The women stopped following him before he reached the door, obviously reluctant to enter themselves, but that didn't deter him.

He slid the door open, his familiar greeting to his sensei spilling from his lips before his brain registered what his eyes were taking in. There was a woman with his sensei. A very familiar woman. The hair, the eyes, everything about her looked strangely like his dead fuku-taichou.

_Minako-chan._

They both looked surprised to see him, although he doubted it could touch the look of surprise on his own face. A dead woman was standing in front of him, obviously not okay—she looked emaciated, was holding herself very stiffly and half of her face was covered in a mottled, purple bruise—but alive.

And then the anger flooded him, turned his sight red with rage.

"I think you have some explaining to do," he said, his voice hard.


	31. Chapter 31

A/N: As usual, all the important information is lurking in the notes of the first two parts.

Enjoy!

* * *

"The Noble Sort"

* * *

"_I think you have some explaining to do," he said, his voice hard._

Minako stared at the man in front of her, eyes wide. _They were in deep shit_. Immediately her mind recalled all the reasons she wasn't allowed in Serireitei without more planning than most assassinations warranted—they had been trying to prevent this exact situation.

Oji was going to _murder_ her.

She froze. She had no clue what to do.

Thankfully oji-san was already moving, a scowl set firmly on his features as he gestured his student into the room and to a seat at the low table. Her former taichou shook his head, and she felt herself back up a step, her back coming to rest against the bookshelves. His eyes were boring holes into her face; she could see the rage he was controlling shining back at her.

Her uncle just sighed and took a seat in one of the few chairs in the room, gesturing to his student to shut the door. He did so without the smallest protest, his eyes never leaving hers.

"So what is all this, hmm?" she heard him ask, and she almost flinched at his tone.

"Surprise," she muttered weakly, cringing when both men shot her twin glares of loathing. She had thought a little humor might bring the tension down. _Wrong_.

"I think it should be obvious, Shunsui."

"Obvious?" he asked. "I think my former fuku-taichou—who supposedly died three years ago—is standing before me. That is what is obvious to me."

"Right in one, taichou."

"You are not helping, Minako. Be quiet." She absently nodded her head. Perhaps this was one of the times she needed to actually obey oji-san. "She did not die. She has been in the human realm, on a mission for me. We had to be sure that no one would suspect her involvement—"

"Don't lie to him, oji-sama, that's not fair—"

He sent her a stern look. "_Stop antagonizing me_."

"Stop lying to everyone! Including yourself." She shot him a look. "I'm done with it. It's gotten us nowhere but at each other's throats. And, um," she looked over at her former taichou, "a major-huge breach of security, apparently."

"Children," he snorted, "but perhaps…"

"I'm still waiting, you know…"

She bit her lip. He looked ready to attack, truthfully. She didn't think she had ever seen him this pissed, including when he had finally hunted her down in the human realm three years ago. He looked like he wanted to cut both of them down right then and there.

She had always known he was hiding this; only a person tamping down a decent amount of rage and power would have the total self-control her taichou had exerted over himself daily. Only someone hiding such power would act the way he did, as if fighting was a last resort—it was for him because he could blow throw his opponents as if they were bugs. There was no reason to fight.

But she had never been face to face with it.

"I made a deal. My freedom in exchange for one last mission and a promise that I would never step foot in Seireitei again. Unfortunately, I've been brought here a few times because of the men I'm hunting down. I'm sure it's made a splash in the local gossip mill."

"The Zero-taichou, hmm?" he asked, his face still dark.

"The men responsible for what happened to me—as well as your current hollow problem. They are one and the same."

"And this was somehow easier to accomplish in the human world, Minako-chan?"

"I had no _choice_."

"Aa. You were forced into it, yes?" he said, his full attention shifting from her to her uncle. "After everything, you pushed her away again. Did you not realize the mistake you made the first time? Did you not realize what it would do to the rest of us?"

"Watch how you speak to me," her uncle said, the warning clear in his tone and posture.

"You _promised_ me, Yama-jii. She was no longer part of my division, but you swore to me that you would protect her since I no longer could."

"Hey, I don't need—"

"There was no other way to be sure they would not find her."

She snorted.

"What he means is there was no other way to keep everyone from me and me from them. It was a fucking isolation tactic. Congratulations," she said with a flourish. "You're the first to know the truth."

She saw his hand fall to his sword and tensed. She doubted he would charge her, but pulling a sword on oji-san right now would be a bad choice to make; he was already in a bad mood from everything that had gone on. His student challenging him would only make it worse. And no matter how strong her former taichou was, he wasn't even a challenge for oji-san. The sou-taichou could wipe the floor with both of them—at the same time—even missing an arm.

She was going to have to be the adult here, obviously, and stop riling him up. She hated being the adult.

"Please," she pleaded, "just calm down and let us explain. We can't get through all of it—we don't have time—but we can get through the big stuff." She finally stepped away from the bookcases and crossed the room swiftly, coming to a stop right in front of him.

His big brown eyes were hard, glittering and dark from his anger, but they were focused on her now, not on her uncle. His hand slowly moved away from his sword and swept up to her cheek, barely touching the skin there before being pulled back and hidden underneath his haori. He shot her uncle a look of loathing before his eyes, now full of concern, were back on her.

"You look rough, Minako-chan," he whispered, and she felt her heart break at what they must have put him through. He had always hated seeing his division members hurt, especially the females. He was a natural protector, really, even if he didn't show it to those outside the division.

"I was in a fight a few nights ago."

"Oh?"

"Fuku-taichou of Zero." She grinned as his eyebrows shot skyward. "I won, too."

"Yare—"

"Do not get cocky, Minako," her uncle said wryly from his chair. "You won, yes, but you were injured. Matsuno-fuku-taichou was not fighting with his full strength."

"Obviously," she snorted. "But I still beat him. Allow me some gloating."

"Why—"

"Because he raped me. He should've known I wouldn't let him get away with it," she said, her eyes gleaming with a dark satisfaction.

"But—"

"I know, it doesn't make sense. You have no idea what we've been dealing with. You won't, either, unless you sit and let us explain." She shot him a pleading look and he nodded slowly.

She backed up, never taking her eyes off of him, and breathed a heavy sigh of relief when he finally took a seat and stared at her uncle.

They would need to be a united force in this, she knew, but part of her was thinking it would be great to let him take the heat. But still—they needed him to cooperate, not be angry. She pushed the emotion down and crossed the room, coming to a stop behind her uncle. They would be united. She could do it so this mission could be finished. It wouldn't be the first time a Yamamoto had bitten the bullet and done what was needed.

She was somewhat sure her uncle did it on a daily basis.

"So then, Minako-chan? Yama-jii?"

"Should I do it or you?" she whispered out of the corner of her mouth.

"I think it might be better coming from you."

"You mean he won't try to fight me," she muttered sarcastically. Her uncle shot her a teasing look—how she had _missed_ that, sometimes—and she cleared her throat.

"Apparently not all of Central thought Aizen as harmless as _we_ previously thought. Right after Urahara's banishment, they started a program. They were creating…soldiers, you could say."

"Oh? Why, they have thirteen divisions of soldiers..."

"_New_ soldiers, taichou. You're looking at the only one that seems to have survived." His eyes widened; he had caught her meaning. "I was the only elemental-type they tried to change—it's what saved me. The others weren't as lucky as me."

"But if they created you, why did they not follow you later? And why you? Wouldn't you be too high profile for something like this?" he asked, the anger fading as his innate curiosity took over. It was an intriguing puzzle, she knew.

"I was powerful but not—I wasn't a taichou." They shared a look; they both understood what she was saying. She would never have been allowed any higher than fuku-taichou with her mother in Central, but she was powerful enough to have done so. Perfect for research.

"If all had gone well I apparently would have been promoted quickly to taichou then to Zero immediately. So they could keep an eye on me. But I didn't even let them get that far—I left first. They found me about fifty years later, and one of their own was sent to stay close to me."

"Close, Minako?" her uncle muttered gruffly.

"Matsu said he broke the rules. He was supposed to kill me, not…anyways!" she said, her voice a little squeaky at the end. "The entire thing was a failure. The two Central operatives were promoted to Zero and the whole thing was buried. And then I was—well, when I showed up to fight Aizen, they were just happy some of their plan had gone correctly. I was not the big offensive power they had wanted, though."

"None of this explains—"

"Patience, taichou. I'm getting there," she said sternly. "When I woke up in the hospital, we—well, we both said things we shouldn't have. Nothing new, right? And this was born." She flicked her hand at the chair that held the two cloaks. "We noticed that there were also other problems popping up in different parts of Seireitei, such as a time-delay in dimensional jumps. The codes ended up matching. I wasn't their only mistake."

"So they are also responsible for the large amount of hollows in the human realm?"

"Something like that. We eventually got names—the two Central members were high up—we had guessed that from haha's information. She was the first to stumble upon this, too. And then with that and…Aizen's…help…we got the third. Matsuno-fuku-taichou. The fourth was already dead; Aizen had Ichimaru infiltrate the project to keep tabs on what they were doing. I wouldn't put it past him to have whispered the idea in someone's ear, even. Control freak."

"So you two have been busy assassinating them?" he replied, disbelief written on his face.

"Sort of. I got my revenge and oji-san's problem was taken care of. But I've had to move in secret. No one could know what we were doing—we couldn't tip them off. And really, the story of my death did help; Rashogen didn't expect me at all. I don't think any of them did until Matsu figured out I was alive."

"Who is Matsu?" he asked.

"Matsuno-fuku-taichou. I knew him as Matsu. I'd known him as a fucking human for years."

"Did you not say something about telling the truth, Minako?" her uncle said, and she could hear the sly amusement in his voice.

"That was all _true_!" she said stubbornly.

"Omission—"

"Is as good as, yes, I know," she said exasperatedly. "But it isn't important, just _embarrassing_."

"Oh, Minako-chan?" her former taichou said, his eyes sparkling. He even had his sakkat pushed back, which meant he was really interested. She was happy he was back to normal, the insane reiatsu force no longer suffocating the room, but—she could strangle them both right now and not care.

"Yes. Why does this even matter? There's more to explain because one isn't—"

"Come now, Minako-chan. Tell me the truth."

She glared at him.

"Matsu was Matsuno. Matsu, my fucking human ex-fiancé." His eyes widened. "Matsu, my ex-fiancé who was also the one that thought raping a defenseless woman was a good idea." She saw the realization come over his face, and a dark smirk crossed her own. "Yes, now you see. How do you think I felt when I found out?"

"I can't imagine—"

"I'm sure you can't," she said dryly. "Anyway, it isn't important. He's dead. Rashogen's dead. Ichimaru's dead. Aizen—well, he's as close to dead as you can get and still have brainwaves. Nishiori is _not_ dead, he is still breathing, and he's alone in this right now. That makes him dangerous. And he knows oji-san's involved in this—he'll come after him or the evidence soon enough."

"You have evidence against them?" he breathed, his eyes shooting from her face to her uncle's. "Why did you not put them through a trial?"

"Central has no say over Zero, Shunsui. There were no guarantees they would be convicted. They have disrupted our functioning, broken our laws. I will not let them escape justice."

"So I'm here to get the last one. We haven't exactly figured out what happens after that."

"You mean you haven't," her uncle replied, and she furrowed her brow. If he already had a plan for after, she would like to know it. This was her future after all. And she wanted to be sure Zero wouldn't be coming after every one of them at some point.

"And you couldn't at least let some of us know she wasn't dead, Yama-jii?" her former taichou asked.

"No, he couldn't," she replied, shrugging. As much as it upset her, oji-san had been right on that. "More people have found out than should have already. Hikaru-san, Sasakibe, Akane—well, she would've known anyway—Mayuri, kami only knows how many of his technicians…it's hard to keep it a secret the more people know about it. No one can know until we're done now. _No one._"

He nodded slowly.

* * *

_Two Days Later_

"Remember to stay between us. And turn off that blasted phone—you will get us all caught," her uncle said sternly, and she fought the urge to giggle underneath the cloak. Then they were out the door, marching down the deserted hall.

The cloak hid her well, really. Their reiatsu was gone, thanks to the inhibitors, and they hadn't been seen. At one point he had shut her outside his office for hours because she had forgotten to stick close. But the day before one of his clerks had almost walked in on her talking on the phone with Isamu, and another had almost bumped into her on the way to a meeting with his division's trainers.

But the close calls were nothing—at least he had agreed to the plan and stuck with it. She had been worried that he would say no, even after everything that had gone down Sunday.

Instead, the day before had gone smoothly; well, other than the few close calls.

But it was a point of contention that Akane was doing better at this than she. Of course, the girl was a natural at sneaking. Even Sasakibe had forgotten she was there a few times, she was so quiet and never noticeable. But Minako didn't do "quiet" well; it wasn't in her nature. She had an urge to just shout sometimes, just to be loud. She had even just sat and tapped her fingernails on the floor at one point, driving her uncle crazy, but at least there had been some noise.

"That was my haori, insolent girl."

"Sorry, oji-san," she whispered, removing her foot as quickly as possible. She hadn't _meant_ to step on it.

She felt Akane bump into her—they were both invisible and walking between her uncle and Sasakibe—and once again stifled the urge to giggle. How did Zero deal with these things? This must be why they only used them to travel, not all the time. Or maybe they had something that made it where they could see each other.

"What is on the agenda today, Choujirou?" she heard her uncle ask as they made their way from the division's barracks to the offices.

That was another problem.

Her uncle had taken to staying in the barracks most of the time. He couldn't just change his routine; it would be too noticeable. So she had been forced to sleep on just a blanket on the floor of his living area—with her injuries still giving her problems, it wasn't comfortable at all. Akane had passed the night in better conditions, at least—Sasakibe had let his gentlemanly side take over and had offered her the bed and taken the small sofa in his own quarters. She was jealous; oji-san didn't have a sofa. Or even a western chair.

"—and then the nightly taichou meeting."

_Nightly? I thought last night was just a fluke!_

It had killed her, too. They hadn't taken long, but she had sat behind oji-san and just watched them all. One in particular had her attention most of the time, of course. It had been so long since she had seen him she couldn't help it.

And the temptation was almost too much. She was invisible, her reiatsu inhibited…she could've crawled right behind him and gotten a closer look. But she didn't tempt fate.

Her uncle—who was acting incredibly out of character—had teased her about it while she was trying to eat dinner later that night. It had been mortifying and one of the most uncomfortable experiences she could remember. He had never felt the need to comment on her relationships before—at least, the only comment he had ever made was not to bring them to his house for her 'nightly activities.' His student's involvement seemed to change all that.

Even worse, the teasing confused her. He wasn't going to keep them apart, apparently, or if he was he wasn't above having fun at her expense; he was being smug and, in Akane's words, a douchebag.

If there was anything to tease about; it had been three years, after all. She didn't know.

Between oji-san and Hidaruma teasing her, she had gone to bed very grumpy. She had woken up grumpy. The only reason she wasn't now was because Sasakibe had tripped over her earlier and the sight of him sprawled on the floor had been hilarious.

Once they finally reached headquarters they went their separate ways, Sasakibe and Akane to do whatever he did all day and she and oji-san to his office. He was nice enough to remember to leave the door open long enough for her to enter, at least.

He moved straight to his desk to begin working while she situated herself against the wall, close enough to get to him quickly if needed but far enough away that no one would trip on her if they came in. She settled down, her back against the wall and her phone on vibrate in her hands, and let herself drift off. Hidaruma could watch the room most of the day; she had some sleep to catch up on.

* * *

_It was gorgeous; there was no other word for it. _

_The valley was bordered by high, grey mountains with peaks of white soaring into the sky. Chile was on the other side, and supposedly there were ancient outposts all through the mountains. The locals said they had never all been found. _

_She took a sip of her wine, delighting in the bold flavor splashing on her tongue, and breathed in deeply. All she could smell were grapes and grass, cool clean air and pristine nature. It was breathtaking. It reminded her of the mountains of Rukongai, of sitting in the farthest districts after a hard mission and seeing the peaks rise into the sky while sipping on tea._

_This was not the Argentina she had imagined. She had visualized Buenos Aires, seen pictures of the vast Patagonian lands, even researched the tip of the continent. But Mendoza—it had been a hidden surprise for her, although her companion had told her what to expect. _

_She hadn't thought he had it in him._

_They weren't even in one of the large hotels downtown, a definite surprise. He usually only stayed in the nicest places, but this time they were rooming in a small winery turned inn on the very edge of the valley. They were deep in the heart of the country instead of seeing it from a Hyatt or a Marriott. _

_She smiled, turning toward him, catching the serene smile he sent back—_

_And everything changed._

_The beauty of Mendoza was overtaken by dark clouds, the grapes withered on the vine, the mountains menacing instead of majestic. _

_His face morphed into a dark, sadistic smirk, his eyes slanted and harsh as they captured her own. He slowly raised a sword as her wineglass fell from her hand, and she couldn't find the strength to scream, to wonder where the waiter had gone, even gasp as he plunged it into her neck—_

She woke to semidarkness with a shudder and a gasp.

But she wasn't in Argentinean wine country, she was in her uncle's large office in the division's headquarters. Matsu wasn't seated beside her. Her back was against a wall, not a hand carved, wooden chair. There were no mountains. There was no smell of grapes, just of rice and tangy meat.

She was startled again by her uncle's voice.

"Your dreams have become a problem?" he said dryly, not looking up from whatever he was working on, but she could hear something different in his tone.

"Not one you have to worry about." She rubbed her eyes and pulled the hood off of her head, letting it settle on her shoulders. "I thought there was a meeting tonight."

"There is. You have less than twenty minutes to eat."

She yawned as she moved quickly to the tray on his desk, but she frowned when she finally saw it had been untouched.

"Where—"

"I have already eaten."

"Oh," she muttered, not about to chance asking him what his subordinates had thought of his requesting two trays. It didn't matter right now.

She checked her text messages quickly, noting that Akane wanted to meet tonight and that Isamu and Kenta had reported in that nothing in Rukongai was suspicious at all. One very quick text back to her student and she turned to dinner, the most pressing thing on her mind. She hadn't eaten since breakfast.

She inhaled the rice and yakitori in front of her and was even able to have a cup of tea before he was shuffling his papers into a pile to one side of his desk and rising from his wooden chair. She threw her hood back over her face.

"I'm going to go with you to the chamber, check everything out, then meet Akane on the roof. We have to have a talk."

"Oh?"

"Mm. I'll be waiting outside when the meeting is over; I'll slip in or wait until you come out and jump in behind you." As he opened the door—Sasakibe was already waiting outside, she noted—she whispered one last thing. "Hidaruma's picking up something strange scent-wise. Be careful."

She saw him nod and she stepped into their formation.

The trip was short, thankfully, as was her check of the room. They had arrived earlier than the taichou so she was able to move swiftly and not nearly as quietly as she should have. She found nothing; the only way he was in this room was if he was able to move very quickly very quietly and not have a scent.

She squeezed her uncle's shoulder twice—their all-clear. Then, as the taichou began to flood the room, she slipped out when no one was in the doorway.

Her first stop was the barracks.

Not only did she need to make sure that everything was still normal there, she needed a restroom.

After a ten minute search of the rooms and a stop in the bathroom, she headed off again, this time using the roofs of the buildings to move a little more quickly. When traveling high up she didn't have to worry about bumping in to the clerks or the fuku-taichou in the building due to the taichou meeting.

She landed as quietly as possible above the large chamber that all the meetings were held in and let Hidaruma take over her sense of smell. There were flowers blooming nearby, the smell of dinner from the barrack's cafeteria, and—there. Akane was smart enough not to wear perfume, but everyone had a scent and the shishi knew hers.

_Where?_

_The corner, southwest. Low. She's crouching or kneeling. Maybe sitting?_

_Probably. I doubt she slept all day. _

The black dog grumbled in her mind.

_You had better appreciate that. I only allowed it because you will be up tonight._

_I know, shishi. _

She approached slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible, but whispered the girl's name when she was ten feet from the edge. All she needed to do was startle her into attacking.

"Minako?" the girl said. There was a swish of fabric.

"Yeah," she whispered.

She stepped forward to the edge and felt with her hand, but she couldn't find her.

"Where are you?"

"Right on the corner."

"Just stay there," she said, and she stepped right up to the edge. The night was cool—even temperature had a scent to Hidaruma—and the flowers and food was still lingering in her senses, but she could smell it now herself.

Using his senses was still one of the strangest things she'd ever been through.

"He's an idiot," she hissed. "He's been here sometime today."

"Nishiori has?" the girl exclaimed quietly.

"I can smell—I don't know what it is. Aftershave? Cologne? Soap? It's manly, and shishi says it doesn't fit any of the clerks he's met or shinigami he's seen so far. It has to be him. A scent and no visual? Every scent usually has a visual."

"Is he here now?" she heard her say.

"No." She sniffed the air again; the scent was stale and old. "It's been a few hours. But if he's scoping the place, he'll be back soon. If I were him, I would make my move at night. But we don't know he'll do that—be prepared for him to attack tomorrow too."

"So full alert tonight."

Minako nodded, even though she knew the girl couldn't see it.

"I'll have Isamu and Kenta stick close to the gate and be ready. You stick to 'Kibe like glue. If he goes to the bathroom you wait outside the door. Stay in the same room as much as possible, stick to his side as much as possible. I don't think he'll go for him, but you never know."

"Should we check on the house?"

"Nuh-uh. Oji-san has a team there. Nishiori would blow through them, but an alarm would sound and alert us. Plus, everything is here in oji-san's rooms. None of the evidence has left his side since this all began. And even _if_ he gets it," she said, staring at the men and women now exiting the building below them, "we have copies in Mayuri's possession just in case."

"So it'll all be over soon," the younger woman said in a heavy tone.

"It'll all be over soon," she repeated as she watched her former taichou, his fuku-taichou, and Ukitake-taichou as they crossed underneath their feet and around the courtyard below.

* * *

R & R if you enjoyed! Happy New Year Everyone!


	32. Chapter 32

A/N: As usual, all the important information is lurking in the notes of the first two parts.

Happy New Year! For 2011, you get 31 and 32 to enjoy before heading out to your New Year festivities (well, at least depending on your time zones!). Only 8 more and an epilogue to go before we're finished.

Enjoy!

* * *

"The Noble Sort"

* * *

The night had passed slowly, with her talking to Hidaruma and pacing her uncle's rooms to stay awake in the lull of the darkness.

But it had been preferable to the morning. When there was enough light that her uncle was up and moving about in his bedroom, her stomach started sinking. Nishiori would have been smartest to attack at night, but he hadn't. His appearance the day before wasn't a coincidence, though; he would be coming at them sometime today.

All of the files, memos, pictures—every bit of evidence they had gathered—was securely stored in a false book that her uncle would keep with him today. It was sitting so innocently on his small kotatsu, as if the papers contained inside weren't the cause of all the anxiety she was feeling.

They had discussed everything the night before. Her uncle would not be leaving his personal office until Nishiori made his appearance. It was the most likely avenue of attack—the balcony was wide and unprotected, few people were allowed in without express permission, and her uncle did not keep guards on duty outside. It would have been her only daytime choice if she was trying to pull it off.

But one thing was still bothering her.

She understood how Nishiori was thinking. She had been in this situation before, where you felt the only option was the one so radical no one else would comprehend it, but why her uncle? Oji-san and Sasakibe had been so sure that part of this was linked to him, to either get him in trouble or end with him dead or in disgrace. She didn't understand it.

Of course, she hadn't been through all of the files, either.

Matsu had been very straightforward when he explained why he chose her for involvement. But she also knew that an order had originated in Central, too. What were Nishiori and Rashogen out for? Not just a promotion, surely. Especially to Zero. Central was a cushy job, Zero was not. Zero was prestigious, sure, but it also meant you left behind everything and never got any glory for what you did. It didn't strike her as their type of gig.

Could it have been a power play? One that, when it didn't work out, they took what they were offered?

Matsu wasn't the type, that she knew, but Nishiori could be. Most of the people in Central liked power but didn't like the work needed to get power. That's why they were there. She wouldn't put it past anyone in Central to hear of such a plot and try to turn it to their own good.

She hated not having all the information, especially when what she didn't know was steering her actions.

Even though it was bothering her, she pushed it from her mind. There were more important things to think about right now than something her uncle had already worked out. He hadn't shared it with her, but she would find out sooner or later.

Right now, she had to worry about the attack that would come at some point during the day. She sent a quick text to Akane, who was below her, in her uncle's rooms with both him and Sasakibe, and then she was soaring through the air, heading across the gleaming buildings of Seiretei. There was one more visit to make before her uncle moved to his office—the distance would give her time to think this all through.

She had to plan.

* * *

Nanao had heard the knock on the door but ignored it. She figured it was one of their squad members or a messenger; there was no discernable reiatsu, so it was someone low in rank.

She could hear a muffled voice, female, but both the visitor and Shunsui were keeping their voices low. Either they were worried about waking someone up or they didn't want her to overhear their conversation. It could, she admitted to herself silently, be that they wanted _no one_ to overhear. The secret corps had their ways of moving without detection—it could be a classified message.

She quashed the part of her subconscious that whispered it could be an old lover, a new lover, a lover _period_. She had expected him to stray but he never had; he didn't deserve her doubts. He had proven that, while he had not always been the most serious or the most constant when it came to romance, their relationship was important to him.

She waited until she heard him shut the door before she exited the bathroom, calmly walking to the other side of her bedroom and standing in front of the mirror to finish dressing. She would be calm. She would not second guess this anymore.

It had been three years. It was time to stop doubting him.

"There is a curious air today, Nanao-chan," he said as he stepped up behind her, his hands coming up to caress her neck.

But, God, he had the ability to make her feel like they were carrying on some illicit romance.

"Not now," she said warningly. "We have to be in the office in fifteen minutes."

"As if the world is holding its breath, waiting for something to happen."

His nose nuzzled her dark hair right above her temple as his hands shifted lower, circling her waist. She suddenly had to put ten times the effort of normal into tying her sash and straightening her haori. She let her hands slide against his briefly, a small show of affection, before pushing his from her waist and turning to the chest of drawers in the corner. She still needed her glasses.

"I'm sure you'll be right there and involved," she muttered as she secured the last bit of her personal armor, sliding her zanpakutou into her left sleeve and her glasses onto her nose.

"Hmm. Perhaps we should go visit Yama-jii this morning," he said as a sly grin slid across his face. But she knew better; his eyes were saying something very different.

What was up?

"What are you on about this morning?" she asked as she moved past him to the door, securing her sandals before giving him a small kiss on the mouth.

It was their morning ritual. One kiss before they left. He was not allowed any public displays of affection once they made it to the office. It was usually enough to hold off the more…physical displays, even though he would be teasing and flirting with her all day.

He wouldn't be _himself_ otherwise.

Truthfully, it was reassuring. The day he stopped flirting and pestering she knew their relationship was doomed.

"I've been nosing around. You know I love a good mystery."

"Finally found yourself wrapped up in something you shouldn't have gotten into? You should leave it all alone—if he wanted you to know, he would have told you about it."

"Nanao-chan!" he exclaimed petulantly, his big brown eyes full of fake sadness. "You would think such things about your taichou? About your lover?"

She scoffed at him as they stepped through the door, not missing his sly smirk as he called himself her "lover." He used the word as much as possible, mainly because he knew she thought it the most scandalous term he could possibly use to describe either of them. Especially where people could hear him.

He was determined to embarrass her at every turn.

"Of course I would."

"Yare! My lovely Nanao-chan! How cruel you are—"

"Shut it, taichou," she said, her more aggressive side showing. She had let herself voice her thoughts more than normal since they began this…relationship…but he didn't seem to mind. If anything, he seemed that much more attentive. "We have quite a bit to do today and I won't have time for your antics."

"Ah, but Nanao-chan, I was not making a suggestion." He tipped up the sakkat he had just placed on his head mere minutes before. "Let's get something for breakfast and head over to see Yama-jii. You'll want to be there for this."

"Oh?" she said, her disbelief evident, but she also knew not to fight.

When he got in these moods, nothing could stop him. And he was rarely wrong—if he thought they should be there, then they should be there. She would trust his instincts before she would trust anyone else's eyes and ears.

There was also the interesting early morning visit to take into account. Perhaps the unknown female had been a messenger from the first?

Either way, it didn't matter. He was her taichou, her lover, her other half both professionally and romantically. He had never led her astray before. She would follow him whenever he requested it and even when he didn't. She would trust him with everything she had.

She trusted him with her life.

There were few people that held that honor. Her taichou, obviously. Ukitake-taichou. To an extent, Matsumoto, although she knew there were situations where the loud woman's loyalty could potentially be against her.

Everyone else was gone or dead.

There had been Lisa. She was alive still, but Nanao doubted she would ever get to see her again. There was their old sixth seat, Yuuhi Hoshi, who had died years ago but had been so loyal she would've trusted him with anything. And there was Minako, who was as dead as Yuuhi-san. There had also been an old sensei in the academy, a good man that had died during Aizen's uprising.

Thankfully, things were much more peaceful now. Their comrades weren't dying, and—she looked over at the tall man walking next to her, his haori swaying in the early morning breeze—he wasn't fighting dangerous battles. She knew it wouldn't last forever, but she would take it as long as it was there.

* * *

She almost couldn't believe Hidaruma's senses were working right when he finally got a whiff of the imageless scent.

They had been sitting there for at least three hours—the sun was climbing into the sky and the day warming before Nishiori showed himself. Most likely he was counting on her uncle taking a lunch break or the fact that the clerks would be at lunch when he made his appearance. Less witnesses.

She sat up slowly, quietly so as not to disturb her uncle or his two visitors—poor Nanao was obviously about to blow a gasket if she had to sit there unproductive any longer—and edged her way to the balcony. The scent was coming from above. If she could catch him up there and drag him away it would be better for everyone. There would also be less damage. Fights between shinigami with their level of reiatsu tended to have devastating effects on any surrounding buildings and was generally frowned upon off of the training field.

She went to jump, but she was startled at the last second. Instead of landing directly above her uncle's office she ended up to the right, sword out underneath the cloak.

_What the fuck, shishi?_

_Something's not right, Minako. _She could hear the tremor in his voice—unusual.

She glanced around wary, but she couldn't see anything, couldn't hear even the breathing of another person.

_Shishi?_

_The scent changed. How did they manage it? It's…how…_

There was a gentle breeze to her left, and she pivoted quickly, turning, but no one approached. She backed up further, her eyes darting around to catch the slightest movement, the one moment her pursuer screwed up, but there was nothing. Not a sound, not a glimpse of a foot or hand.

_Get off the roof. Now!_

_What?_

_Get down, Minako!_

She was actually closer to the inner courtyard than she was the balcony that led back to her uncle's office, so she moved that way, landing directly in the soft grass and then moving to backtrack to the office. But she never made it—she heard the whoosh as soon as she jumped, someone coming right up behind her, but she couldn't turn fast enough. She was pushed up against the wall in front of her, a sword at her throat and a man's arm secure around her waist.

"Get off me," she hissed, trying to bring her own sword up and out from under the cloak at his arm, but the angle was too awkward. She couldn't get it high enough to stab at his arm, and secured as she was, there was no fighting back.

She had been truly caught unaware.

_Shit_.

_You have no idea, Minako. Scream!_

_What?_ She asked, confused. Bringing the first division down on them would be bad.

_This isn't Nishiori._

She felt the shock spread through her, knew it was showing on her face, and then she felt warm breath on her cheek as the man behind her leaned forward.

"Dear girl, that was a stupid move."

_Oh, fuck._

"How?" she said, her voice hoarse and rough. She felt the sword at her throat jiggle just a bit, scratching her skin, as he chuckled.

"You're still so young; there are many things in this world you don't know." The hand on her waist was feeling around under the waist band of her pants, and she tried to jerk backwards as he moved his hand further back, but the sword was snapped up tight, next to her throat. She went still.

She almost felt like crying when she saw him pull the gun out from under her cloak and stash it somewhere in his own. It had been the one hope she would have.

"Slowly now, Minako. Switch the sword to your left hand in front of you." She did so, even as she felt his hand come to rest tightly around her left wrist. He had total control now; she was screwed. "You should have just made this easier on both of us. We wouldn't be here now."

"I would, even if you wouldn't."

Her left arm was brought down, close to her waist. She would most likely end up chopping her own leg off if she tried to make too quick of a movement.

She closed her eyes, breathing deeply. There were few choices here. One, she let him do what he wanted—hopefully they would go somewhere and do this without witnesses. But she doubted it. Two, they ended up in oji-san's office and a fight broke out. People would die. Three, she screamed, warning everyone that he was in danger and she brought the full force of the divisions on both their heads. She would end up dead, most likely, but so would he.

She had no clue what to do. She hadn't planned for _this_.

She felt herself shoved suddenly against the wall, her captor hissing at her to be silent as a clerk walked by. She did so—not because she was obeying him but so that the young clerk wouldn't be pulled into this. He was green, much too young. He would be killed quickly.

As he rounded the corner and moved out of sight, she forced herself to calm down. She needed him talking so she could figure out what to do.

Her right arm was free; she moved it minutely to grab her phone and pressed each button slowly, her text message menu having been memorized and a multitude of pre-recorded messages ready.

Akane would know to get everyone out as soon as she received it, if she could get it sent.

"How are you—"

"Alive, dear girl?" He chuckled, a too-tender kiss pressed against her cheek as he did so. She fought the urge to vomit. "Like I said, I know things you don't. Like how to switch a body right when I need to. Things they don't teach in the secret corps."

She raised a brow.

"You knew about that, huh?"

"Oh, Minako, you were silent for over a century before being put into the Eighth. There were only two places you could have possibly gone. At first, I was sure it was Onmitsukidō. Your lack of skill in kidō has been widely publicized. But I was wrong, yes?"

She glared at the wall in front of her.

"Of course. You are rarely quiet. But flashy—you do that quite well. So was it an accident or a ruse?"

"Both, actually," she said, her mouth dry. "There was an accident with a blood barrier. My kidō was never the same. But I can still outperform you, I bet."

"I should have known. You excel at barriers—your bankai was based off kidō manipulation. Where is your tattoo, though? I have seen every _inch_ of your body—other than the tattoo you got in Miami, there are only scars. Oh, _oh. _How tricky. Your inner lip, yes? I once had a squad member that had one in the same place, as well as one that had theirs on the sole of their foot. But you wouldn't have gone for that—the lip, though, yes, that's very you. Hidden."

"It's not the only thing," she growled, her thumb hitting the send button. Akane would get the message any minute now.

But her elbow made contact with his stomach.

"Put that down, lovely," he said, and she threw the phone to the ground. "Good girl," he purred, "but did you actually get anything sent?"

"None of your business, you sonofabitch."

"Language," he warned, pressing her closer to the wall, the wood biting into her cheek.

"_Screw you_."

"You already have, remember?"

Her anger was still rising, continually growing as he played with her, but she couldn't even move.

"And Nishiori?"

"You killed him, Minako. What a murderer you've turned out to be!" His voice was somewhat playful, almost reminding her of Shinji, and a shudder ran down her spine.

"You're crazy, aren't you?" she said, her exasperation evident. "It would figure. I always get the psychos."

"Perfectly sane, I assure you." His grip on her wrist tightened and he pulled it back and out just a bit. He was preparing for something. "But it had to happen; next time you'll know to use all six seals, hmm?"

"There won't be a next time, Matsu."

He shrugged, turning her just a bit.

"How about we take a walk, precious? I think there is someone we need to visit." He jerked her from the wall, the sword catching a bit of skin on her throat. She felt the blood trickling down her skin and onto her shirt, but she ignored it. It wasn't even enough to sting yet.

"How about we go somewhere and settle this ourselves?"

"Oh, I don't think so. You've fucked everything up now, did you know that? You've fucked it _all up, _and I have to fix it somehow. I'm not losing my badge over this, not now." He jerked her wrist again. "Pull our hoods off with your right hand, and push the cloaks back off our shoulders. We'll need to be visible for this. Slowly, Minako."

She glowered darkly, staring straight ahead as she did as he commanded, then he marched her down the hall. There was no one passing, thankfully, but the feeling of foreboding inside her grew.

They were heading straight toward oji-san.

* * *

Akane stared, disgruntled, at the group that had converged in the office. She had known Minako was calling in her taichou, but she was pretty sure her sensei had not called his best friend. In fact, she was pretty sure her sensei was trying to avoid even getting close to the man right now. And she knew she hadn't called tweedle-dum and tweedle-dee, the dynamic duo whose stupidity knew no bounds and everyone in the divisions laughed at on a regular basis.

But here he was, his third seats in tow, spouting something about having tracked down his best friend and wondering why he was with their sensei.

These shinigami could smell a conspiracy in a sandstorm a continent away when it wasn't _Aizen's_ doing.

But no one had noticed her yet, thankfully, although she had noticed her sensei's quick escape of the room earlier. She hadn't missed the breeze as the woman jumped from the balcony up to the roof. It gave her chills; everything would start soon.

She felt her phone buzz, the vibration short and quiet enough not to attract attention, and she flipped it open under the cloak, glaring at the screen.

_~Minako~_

There was a brief moment of confusion. Sensei was supposed to be fighting Nishiori, not texting.

She felt her stomach drop as she flipped the phone open. Did something happen? Did Nishiori leave? She was tired of doing this after just a few days, ready for it to be over.

_~Change of plans~_

Her stomach dropped the rest of the way to her feet—she knew what that meant.

There were others in the room, four that did not know of her existence, but she had no choice. She jumped up from the wall, scurrying over to the desk and the now-odd assortment of chairs in front of it and whipped the cloak backwards, jerking the clasp at the neck apart and letting it fall to the ground. She saw the four who hadn't known of her presence jerk but she ignored it, turning to the sou-taichou.

"Something's wrong. We've been ordered to evacuate."

"Evacuate? Why—"

"I don't know, Sasakibe, all I know is what I got. Something's _wrong."_

The two taichou in front of her and their subordinates stood, obviously ready to question her or actually leave, but the sou-taichou put his hand out.

"Stay where you are."

Everybody immediately complied, her commands being overridden by his, but they were all in battle stances now, ready to fight. That was _something_, she guessed.

"What did the message say, Akane-san?"

She looked at the fuku-taichou of the first, her eyes dark.

"_Change of plans._ It's code for 'get the hell out of dodge.'_"_

His own hand went to the hilt of his sword. He was obviously smart enough to realize that the order wasn't given in vain. If Minako had ordered them out, there was most likely a good reason for it. Problem was, Akane couldn't figure out what it would be.

"Genryuusai-sensei, what is going on?" she heard Ukitake-taichou ask, and she held in the insane laughter that threatened to bubble up and escape from her mouth. Something really bad was about to happen, that was what.

She didn't have to wait long.

There was a knock at the door, drawing all of their eyes, and Sasakibe hesitantly stepped forward, swinging the door open before using shunpo to zoom back to the middle of the room. He was back behind his taichou before anyone got to see who was entering the room.

But Akane felt her heart join her stomach on the floor when she finally saw who it was.

* * *

Minako fought the urge to curse when she saw the group in the office.

_Fuck._

There were extras, never good. And they obviously hadn't heeded her warning, something they would all get chewed out for later. If she _lived_.

But now there were nine very surprised faces staring straight at them, most likely all surprised for very different reasons. One, she was being held captive. Two, some of these people didn't know she was alive. And three, well, the guy holding her hostage wasn't supposed to be alive either.

She barely caught sight of a hell butterfly as it flitted out in the open air above the balcony. Someone else had gotten a message off, obviously. Was it oji-san?

"Sou-taichou," she heard Matsu say, his dark voice amused as he stepped into the room. "Someone shut the door once we get further in, please." His grip tightened on the sword when he said it, a cue that there would be consequences otherwise.

She snorted as Sasakibe did exactly as ordered. _Idiot_. He should've let him cut her throat and then attacked.

"Minako—"

"Stay back, Akane," she warned, her voice tight. She didn't want the girl near them. He wouldn't hesitate to take her out, she knew.

They were on the opposite side of the office now, the large group staring at them still. Her uncle was standing, though, moving around his desk slowly. Suddenly the grip on her wrist tightened to an unbearable level, and she hissed as she dropped Hidaruma to the ground when she lost control of the muscles. She heard it clang as he kicked it across the room.

She was now completely unarmed.

"What a reunion, eh, Minako? Your uncle, your little protégé, your former taichou and his fuku-taichou, and—hmm. Where does he fit in, I wonder?" She felt his nose trace a path down her cheek, and she fought the urge to flick her eyes to meet those of the pale man staring at her. "Is he here to protect your oji-san?"

She stared straight ahead at Akane, begging her eyes not to look to the left.

"Matsuno-fuku-taichou," she heard her uncle say with dark anger in his voice, "what do you think you are doing?"

She felt him back up and allowed herself a deep breath.

"Not surprised I'm not dead? Maybe you just took it better than she did. She was _very_ surprised, I assure you." He kissed her jaw, his eyes never leaving the group of shinigami in front of them, and her former taichou moved forward, hand on his sword. She felt Matsu jerk her left hand up, her palm facing the group as he cut off circulation and bent it backward. She fought the yelp that grew in her throat as she felt bones sliding and twisting irregularly. "Don't move."

Kyouraku-taichou stopped, his eyes dark.

"Was it him then, Minako? Is he the one?" She shook her head, biting her lip as he continued to bend the strained wrist backward. "Who then, dear girl? Who did you _betray_ me for?"

She couldn't help it—her eyes flicked over, meeting the copper eyes of the man who had been in her thoughts since she had been forced to leave. She quickly reset her gaze, but Matsu had already caught it.

And she almost didn't care, because just seeing his face was worth it.

His eyes were wide with shock, his brow furrowed as he tried to think, tried to plan even while in the situation, but he was still as gorgeous as ever.

"Him, then? Ukitake-taichou? I didn't know you had such good taste, Minako! Although it shouldn't surprise me—he is your _type_. Older, pale hair, tall and broad, even if he is on the skinny side." He jerked her wrist further back and she let her right hand curl into the fabric of his hakama, hoping the tight grip would help her focus on something other than the pain.

"Jealous much, you possessive bastard?" she bit out, her teeth gritted. "Last I knew I made it pretty clear that I _fucking_ _hated you."_

She couldn't help but let out a sharp curse as he finally bent her hand backward, breaking the bones. All three taichou moved forward but stopped when she shouted at them.

"He's just trying to provoke you," she gasped, her hand on fire. She'd had worse, but it always seemed to hurt more when it was done slowly. "Don't let him get to you. He'll only get that much worse if you do!"

"What do you want?" she heard oji-san ask, his reiatsu levels beginning to rise.

"I want everything you have against me. I want my _job_ back. I want my _life_ back! I'm not going down because of her interfering stupidity." He dropped her wrist and she felt her body go slack with relief from the pain, slumping against him. His hand came up immediately to support her, circling her waist again.

He didn't want to slit her throat accidentally?

_He can't kill you too early, onna. And you're already bleeding a great deal.  
_

_Thanks for the reassurance, shishi._

"You know I won't give it to you."

"Yama-jii—"

"Minako knew the risks when this began. I will not hand over what I have against you. We both know I have enough for sentencing if I take it to your taichou."

"That's what you get, Matsu. Shouldn't of screwed up in the first place," she said in a sing-song voice, taunting, teasing. She heard the man behind her growl, then his left arm was digging in his cloak and something cool was pressed to her side.

She watched as Akane's eyes grew wide; she was the only one that realized the weapon could actually harm her. Well, harm was putting it mildly. If he shot he would most likely blow her in half, and she was pretty sure that was fatal, even for shinigami, without immediate medical attention.

_I'm sorry_, she mouthed to the girl, and she couldn't help but feel remorse at the fact that she would be leaving her all alone again. Hopefully oji-san would take care of her.

"_Do it_," she hissed, jerking her head back to look into his eyes.

There was nothing left. If he killed her, they would attack. It was most likely the only way this would work now.

_Unless_…

"Do it, you fucking _coward_."

"So eager to die, precious? Do you want them to have to watch the life leave your body?"

_If you won't do it…I'll do it myself._

"I'm eager to know that you've finally breathed your last breath, you slippery little fuck," she hissed, and then pulled the reiatsu inhibitor off her right wrist quickly, ignoring the pain of using her left hand as she rejoiced in letting her reiatsu flood the room.

His reiatsu skyrocketed as well, and soon Akane, Nanao, and the two following Ukitake had dropped to the ground, the pressure too much for them to handle. Sasakibe was pulling them backward, one by one, but she couldn't worry about them now. She had access to her power.

Hidaruma appeared fifteen feet in front of them, smoke pouring out of his nostrils and his teeth bared. He was close to attacking, only held back by the look she shot him.

"Call off your doggie, Minako. Now," he said, pressing the gun barrel deeper into the soft skin and tissue at her side.

"_Fuck you._"

Hidaruma lunged just as she brought her right arm up, grabbing the forearm holding the sword to her throat and twisting quickly. She felt it slice into her neck as he jerked to try and regain control, but she kept pushing, putting all her strength into disarming him. She heard him scream as she forced his arm backward, the sword barely missing her head and arm—but at the same time Hidaruma was biting down hard on his left hand, the pistol falling to the floor uselessly.

He jerked back, trying to regain his momentum and get into a defensive stance, but he had trained her as well—she could fight in close quarters against him, she knew his moves. She slid in quickly, punching him hard with her right hand straight in the nose, then brought both hands together and swung upward with all the force she could get. She heard the crunch as her broken bones slid and his jaw shattered.

He stumbled back as she staggered, her hand on fire now.

"Goddamnit, Matsu!" she screamed, her left hand held tightly to her chest as Hidaruma pounced on him, putting all of his two hundred pounds on the man's chest and arms. She kicked his sword away and bent down to grab the gun, once again securing it in the waistband of her pants.

She saw Kyouraku-taichou approach on the left, grabbing Matsu's fallen sword, and she breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn't dead yet, but she could fix that pretty quickly herself.

"Are you going to kill me in front of all these people, Minako?" he asked, his voice breathy and dark. He didn't look scared, although he wasn't happy to have lost.

"I'm not too proud."

She let the purple light grow next to her right hand, fingers spread as power crackled in the small spaces between them, and shishi changed back into his normal form not a second too soon as she slammed her hand down on the hilt of her sword, the purple power channeling through it instead of flying through the air.

"_Had__ō_ _no go-juu-yon: Haien_!" she shouted, feeling the drain on her reiatsu as the purple energy shot toward Matsu and engulfed his body. Her sword pinned him to the floor, and the energy spread from the tip throughout his body, incinerating him instantly.

She let herself fall back, reigning in her reiatsu as her butt hit the floor.

Her wrist was damaged badly, her neck bleeding profusely from the last hit he had been able to get in, but she was alive. And he was dead. It was over.

It was finally over.

She let herself fall into unconsciousness—her body had just been going too long at this point—right as she saw the white hair of her one-time lover enter her vision and heard Akane exclaim loudly that, once again, she hadn't gotten to fight anyone.

* * *

A/N: Quick Japanese Translation...

_Had__ō_ _no go-juu-yon: Haien!_: Offensive Demon Spell 54: Abolishing Flames.

R & R if you enjoyed! Happy New Year Everyone!


	33. Chapter 33

A/N: Sorry for the late update! Work has been crazy, I'm in the middle of switching jobs, and now I'm stuck in the middle of a winter storm. On the plus side, the snow is gorgeous and it gave me time to get the update taken care of for this week.

Thanks to those who have continued reviewing! I haven't gotten nearly the response I would've liked on this story on FF, but those of you who have continued to drop me a line or two of encouragement are the reason I'm still posting here.

Enjoy!

* * *

"The Noble Sort"

* * *

Minako woke hours later in the hospital. She was becoming more familiar with the fourth division as an exile than she had been when she was a shinigami.

She felt someone jerk, her right hand falling out of someone's grasp as they stood up. She looked over and saw Akane's red hair bobbing as the girl jumped to her feet, her eyes wide as she stuttered something out and ran from the room, shouting for Unohana-taichou.

_Weird_.

She pushed herself up slowly, careful not to mess with the lines going in and out of her arm, as well as the bandaged left wrist that, while it seemed to be healed, was still throbbing a bit. Her neck also felt crusty—had no one had the decency to clean the damn thing?

"Sensei!" Akane exclaimed, breathless, as she ran back into the room and collapsed into her chair. "Sorry. I was under strict orders to get Unohana-taichou as soon as you woke up."

Minako shut her eyes, humiliated.

"Tell me I did not seriously pass out from a broken wrist."

"The wrist was only one factor, Minako-san," Unohana-taichou said calmly as she approached the left side of the bed, her hand already glowing green. "You had lost quite a bit of blood, never mind the severe malnourishment and vitamin deficiency. There were also insufficiently healed wounds in your abdomen, your right leg, and your cheekbone."

"Oh, well, I guess I can show my face now," she muttered, shoulders drooping as the kind healer continued her exam.

She gave her a moment of silence to do so; there were surroundings to check out. She had no idea what was going on. But Akane was moving about freely, Hidaruma was right next to the bed, within reach, and there were no handcuffs. Hmm. She couldn't even sense guards outside the room.

"Well, Minako-san, you should be fine, although I will be having you stay the night to make sure. And you must _eat._ You are severely underweight. I am surprised you were still moving, to be honest."

She nodded at the taichou, chastised but grateful to be healed.

"Good. I will have them send some dinner in for both of you, then, before any other visitors are allowed. There is a long line."

Minako grinned at the joke, but she was eager to see some of them herself. Some, though…

As soon as Unohana-taichou left, she turned to Akane, her face serious.

"How deep are we in?"

"I'm not sure," the girl said, looking confused. "Zero-taichou is _pissed._ Showed up not too long after Matsuno was dead—although he thought it was Nishiori."

"I'll explain that later."

"Oh, I'm sure. Your uncle was just bursting to ask you tons of questions, but I get the feeling Unohana-taichou is not too happy with him right now. I think she's forbidden him from approaching you for a few hours."

They shared a grin.

"But no corps. members, no arrests or anything yet. I know Central had representatives in the office not too long after you were transferred here." She shrugged her shoulders. "Really, no one's told me anything. All I've gotten is that there are people who want to see you and your uncle is actually going to allow them in. I guess you're officially alive again. Welcome back!"

"Idiot."

"Moron."

She threw her pillow at the girl, who had obviously finally allowed all the stress to leave her body. Minako was glad; Akane had been way too worried for someone her age. And it had been her fault. But she had oji-san's full agreement that the most Akane would face was some questioning after everything was done, so there wasn't anything more for the girl to worry about. Well, nothing that couldn't wait.

Just then a young boy entered, two trays balanced precariously in his arms, and Akane moved to help him situate one on the moving table for herself and one on her lap. The food didn't look just great, but right now it didn't matter. Food was food.

"What is this?"

"You probably don't want to know," Minako said, staring at the food dubiously.

They both ate quickly, and the trays were taken away, which left them bored. At the house they always had computers, books, television, even the piano if they got too bored. But here there was nothing to do but stare at the walls and wait for someone to show up and explain what was going on.

And then, after only half an hour of sitting idle, both contemplating hospital room décor, the door swung open, Isane and Nanao both entering at a quick pace. Isane had her in a crushing hug before she could even say 'hello,' and Nanao was already scolding her as if she was one of her lower division shinigami.

"Nice to see I was missed," she said jokingly, receiving a glare from the petite fuku-taichou and a playful smack from Isane.

"Of course we missed you! What were you thinking?"

"I'm not sure we were," she said as both women took up spots near the side of the bed. "Everything just spiraled down. I'm not even really sure what you were told."

"We were told you had died of a heart attack not too long after you woke up! I don't know how he managed it; even taichou didn't know!"

"If he is anywhere near as crafty as Shunsui—"

"Worse, actually, Nanao. Where do you think taichou got it from?"

They shared a look of fond exasperation.

She looked over for just a moment, but she was able to catch the weird look on Akane's face. The poor girl. Was she just unused to seeing this side of her? Or—did she think she would be abandoned for the other girls she'd known when she was a shinigami? She should have known better.

"Nanao, Isane, this is Akane. She's my 'student,'" Minako said, even using her hands to make quotations in the air.

"You poor girl," Nanao remarked, her face completely void of emotion.

"But—"

"Don't let her push you around. Or slack off—she does that still, yes?"

Akane just nodded, dumbfounded.

"Don't scare her, Nanao, Isane!" Minako laughed out, amused at the girl's confusion. Akane actually looked quite scared now. "She's been with me for three years; if she's lasted this long I imagine she can last a little longer."

"But this is irrelevant," she said, waving her uninjured hand in the air. "What's going on? No one's told us anything. "

"As far as I know, the sou-taichou has been in a meeting with some of Central and Zero-taichou for hours now. Shunsui and Ukitake-taichou were in there until just about an hour ago—they stopped by before going to get something to eat." Nanao gave her a sly look. "I believe they will be back."

"Oh?" Minako said nonchalantly, picking at a string on the blanket.

"Mmm. Shunsui didn't seem too surprised to see you alive, either. I haven't been able to ask him, yet…"

Minako felt a shiver go down her spine as the younger woman adjusted her glasses and fixed her with a deep look. Apparently they were both going to be in trouble if she didn't like their explanation.

"He found out Sunday. Walked in on me and oji-san arguing, unfortunately. We knew it was just a matter of time, so we were able to get him to agree to just be quiet…"

"That better be the truth."

Minako nodded fervently. She could see the darkness in both their eyes, and she felt a brief moment of guilt for what she must have put her friends through. She didn't have many, so upsetting the ones she had was a problem. Which reminded her…

"Akane, did you call—"

"Taken care of, sensei."

She breathed a deep sigh of relief.

Well, then. So far, so good.

* * *

She had spoken too soon.

Thought too soon. Whatever.

It was a little past midnight now, the hospital quieting down, and her taichou and his best friend had never showed up. Not surprising, really, considering that they had been in meetings all day trying to help clean this mess up. But part of her had desperately wanted to just see him.

_Pathetic onna._

_Shut it._

Oji-san hadn't been by either, which could be both good and bad. Good because he just might plan on taking her home, bad because she might end up in jail in the morning. It was still her biggest fear.

_There are no guards now. We could sneak away._

_And Akane?_

_Oh. Yeah. Forgot about Red._

Akane had left two hours ago, escorted to the Eighth by Nanao, where she would stay tonight. At least she was safe from any potential retaliation and being kept close to people Minako would trust no matter what. Taichou would make sure she was safe tonight. She would most likely be bunking in Nanao's quarters, which made her giggle—Nanao and taichou were still together! How cute!

She had known it was a good match.

She shifted in the bed again—she liked to sleep on her side, which was almost impossible with one arm injured and one sporting iv's, and she huffed at the shishi's grumble. At least she had let him take his form. And he could sleep comfortably.

_But the floor is cold,_he whined.

_I feel no sympathy._

_Stupid bitch._

_I'm not stupid!_

She laughed out loud while the shishi snorted, and then covered her mouth quickly. She was still in a hospital, and she didn't want to disturb the other patients.

"Is your hound telling jokes?"

She turned quickly, almost ripping one of the tubes out of her arm—she hissed in pain and grabbed at her forearm with her injured hand, which only made it worse—but forgot it all immediately when she caught sight of the person that had been able to enter the room without them noticing. He had barely passed the door, and his white hair was gleaming in the moonlight coming in through the small window.

_Sorry 'bout that, _shishi said, although he didn't sound too upset.

She pushed herself up awkwardly, her left wrist still too weak to hold her weight, and once she got herself up and situated she leaned over and flicked on the small lamp beside the bed.

This was going to be _awkward_.

He looked drained, very tired. The day had obviously taken a toll on him, and for a moment she had the urge to let him have the gurney. Instead, she gestured helplessly to the chair near him, hoping he would at least sit. It would make her feel better to have him resting—and not towering over her.

He didn't.

He walked slowly to the bed, his eyes more serious than she had ever seen, and he slowly turned her injured wrist over, staring at the bandage.

"It doesn't hurt," she said, her voice hoarse.

He nodded slowly.

_Awkward!_

He let her hand go, though, and moved to the chair, collapsing into it bonelessly. She had never seen him appear anything less than perfectly in control—it was strange. She knew, logically, that with his illness there had to be times where he was like this, but she had never seen it herself. She wasn't sure she liked it.

_Shishi! Dance or something!_

The dog snorted from his position on the floor, almost underneath the bed, and she felt something dark start growing inside her. He was dead next time they faced off on a training ground.

"I—"

He held up a hand.

"Just—don't talk for a moment. Let me think."

Her mouth snapped shut, her eyes wide with shock, but then she pursed her lips and gave him the age-old look that meant she was a Very Offended Female. The dark anger growing inside her was now aimed towards him. One night three years ago and he thought he could boss her around? Did he not remember exactly who she was?

"Excuse me—"

"Please, just give me a minute," he said, and she actually shut up. He was almost pleading with her. It wouldn't kill her to be quiet for a moment a let him gather his thoughts.

So she sat quietly, picking at the same string on the blanket that she had fiddled with all night, and stared at the chipped nail polish on her fingernails. It really was time to repaint them, although she wasn't really sure what color she would pick right now, especially if there were going to be hearings with Central and meetings to deal with. She would have to be all modest and unassuming, then, and she tended to go with bold reds—

"Did I really even know you?"

Her head snapped up, and she met his glistening eyes with her own.

"Huh?" It was all she could manage.

"We've spent most of the day going through everything sensei had concerning these men, their activities, you—did—were you ever who you pretended to be?" He gave her a look of confusion. "I am usually so good at reading people—but this—you—"

She raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not sure what you mean by that. What could you all have discussed today that would make you think I'm not, well, me?" She sent him a confused look. "I think I was pretty straightforward the last time we saw each other."

"You were engaged," he said, his voice cracking just a bit on the last word.

"No, no, no," she said vehemently. "I was _not._ Matsu knew better, it was just something he kept throwing out, especially in front of other people. The man was psychotic."

"You kept so much from us. And then—we thought you had died—do you have any idea—"

"I do, actually—Lisa, remember," she said, her voice low, "but it wasn't really my choice, no matter what oji-san may say. But if I had stayed, I would've been dead. I wouldn't have gotten the chance to even recover before they got to me. I had to leave and it was the only way." She shot him a look. "And why am I getting all the blame? What about oji-san?"

"I've already made my point clear to sensei," he said, his voice harder than she had ever heard it. Then he knew what oji-san had used against her to get her out of here.

"So what? This is you getting your anger out at me?" She scoffed.

"I thought you were dead," he said slowly, his eyes locked with hers. "I mourned you. I blamed myself for not saying everything that I should have. And then—to find out you were alive, only to face the fact that some madman you apparently left brokenhearted was going to kill you in front of me—"

"Matsu didn't have a heart to break."

"Of course," he said.

She frowned.

"The files, the videos, all the reports…nothing in there was the Yamamoto Minako I thought I had known. You killed two men in cold blood and murdered another in front of me when he was already disarmed."

She took a deep breath, fighting for calm, but it wouldn't come.

"_He raped me,_" she hissed, her eyes glittering in the dark. "That man had no problem taking advantage of someone unable to defend against an attack. Then, he—he—I—" She closed her eyes tightly, fighting the tears that wanted to come. "He didn't deserve mercy. When he saw he would die in battle he let someone else take his place. And you think I should give someone like him mercy? Please."

"Is your heart truly that hard, Minako?"

"These men are not only responsible for eighty years of my suffering, but the deaths of at least six shinigami in the same experiments that made me the _freak_ I am today. And how many shinigami—how many of your squad have been injured due to the hollow numbers recently? They weren't innocent. They knew years ago what Aizen was planning and didn't do a damn decent thing to stop him! The only thing I regret is not getting to them _earlier_."

"How…I knew you were not like me. It's your nature, and I accepted that. But this, Minako, this is all unbelievable. You took _pleasure_ in what you did—you _gloated_ about it."

"Yes, well, Matsu gloated about the fact that he held me down and _fucked_ me against my will, too. You aren't crucifying him for it."

"I don't speak ill of the dead."

"I'm sure the bastard thanks you," she said, her sarcastic tone biting. "You didn't know him like I did. He could be pure evil when he wanted. He just rarely pointed it at me until now."

She turned away from him, looking down at the ground. Shishi was staring up at her, golden eyes glittering with sympathy. He could feel her heart breaking, apparently.

It was happening again. She had known better. God, she had known better. They always left. They couldn't stand the fact that she could stand on her own two feet, that she could do what she had to do. She had hoped he would be different, but she had always had that niggling doubt in the back of her mind. And then he showed up tonight, and her heart soared, hoping that for once she had found one worth keeping.

She was always wrong.

Was it really too much to ask that she finally meet a man that could love her for who she was?

She swallowed the lump forming in her throat and blinked a few times, pushing away the tears that were forming. Her body was going cold and numb as the emotional shock took over. It always happened this way. She knew next would be the sobs she couldn't keep away, and she really just wanted to be alone now.

"Is there anything else, then, Ukitake-taichou?" she said, turning back towards him. She made sure her tone was civil, but her face was closed off, her mask up completely.

"Minako, I'm not done discussing this—"

"I am, Ukitake-taichou. Unless there is something else you wish to make clear other than what you've already said."

His mouth went slack for a moment, then he took on the persona she was so used to. _And she was the one hiding. Seriously. _He stood, bowing slightly at the waist, before moving to the door.

"I don't believe so, Minako-san. I—I hope everything goes well."

She listened as he exited, as his steps grew quieter, waited for the silence that would mean he was down the hall and out of her hearing range. Then she flicked the lamp off, curling up in the small bed.

Two paws were placed on the side of the gurney and she pulled at the big black mitts, scooting over as far as she could to allow him to crawl up on the bed, tail firmly tucked between his legs and his ears folded down.

_That was not how that should have gone._

_I know, shishi. _

As she finally let the tears lose—it had been too long since she'd had a really good cry—she knotted her hands in the thick black fur and sobbed as Hidaruma whispered to her in her head.

_But I can't make him love me._

_I know, Minako. I know._

* * *

"Sensei—are you supposed to have those out yet?"

She glanced up at the redhead and the petite brunette behind her, shrugging, before turning back to Hidaruma, who was sitting next to the chair she now occupied. She just hoped they had brought her some clothes.

"I guess it doesn't matter, then? But I'm pretty sure you were supposed to stay in bed until we came to get you."

"Did you bring me clothes?" she asked, her voice scratchy.

"Yeah," Akane said slowly. "What—what the fuck's wrong with you?"

She shook her head, putting her hand out for the bag of clothing.

"Where did this come from?" She looked up at them and they gasped at the sight of her eyes, red-rimmed and bloodshot from her night of crying. "Oh, _stop_ _it_. Seriously, where did you get them? If they happen to be something I left at oji-san's three years ago, you know they won't fit."

"I know; they aren't. I went shopping this morning already and got some things for you. It isn't much, but it'll work."

"Please no kimono," she muttered, digging through the bag.

"No. Some black pants," Akane squeaked out as she jumped to the side to avoid the swing of a fist aimed at her hip, "and a typical shirt. They didn't have anything long sleeved, sorry. Plus, it's summer." Akane shot her a sympathetic glance. "And some make-up, thank the Kami. You'll need it, although I don't think it'll cover all that."

She snorted.

"Anyway, get up and get dressed. Your uncle's not five minutes behind us. We're busting this joint."

"Finally," she muttered, moving to the small bathroom.

The two women shared a look when she left, both gesturing at their eyes, before Nanao quietly informed her that Ukitake-taichou was supposed to have been by last night. Akane's face drooped; something bad had happened.

Minako didn't take long in the bathroom, just throwing on the clothes and shoes proffered and not bothering with make-up at all. Nanao looked stunned when she entered, though—apparently this clothing didn't hide her condition nearly as well as the hospital gown.

"So what's going on, then?"

"I'm taking you home," her uncle's gruff voice said form the doorway, and she couldn't deny the relief she felt at hearing it. "We are going by the division first, but then you'll be staying at the estate until everything is taken care of."

"Oh?" she said, gesturing to Hidaruma and grabbing the sword as he changed forms, easily hooking it into the belt included in the bag of clothing.

"Your reiatsu will be mostly sealed until this is over. I have negotiated a ten percent range of freedom for your…protection."

_For the shishi._

"And Akane?"

"She will be staying with us as well. Neither of you will leave the grounds until this is over."

"They're not even sealing me, sensei. I'm apparently a small fry," the girl said in a comical voice.

They were being protected, and by him. That worked for her. Anything was better than jail, and at this point she just wanted it all over and done with as soon as possible.

She nodded, moving to follow both he and Sasakibe down the hall. The two women were right behind her, and she could hear Nanao firing off rapid questions about the state she was in. She finally turned and shot them a look to get them to shut up once they left the hospital building, and they were blissfully silent for the rest of the trip to the First.

Everyone stopped and stared when they entered the large gates, apparently shocked by finally seeing the person responsible for all the upheaval in the last day. But she squared her shoulders—this wasn't the first time she'd been in deep water. She'd never let them get to her before and she wouldn't now. She'd once faced soldiers, rapists, taichou—a few clerks were nothing.

They steadily made their way to the large chamber that was home to every taichou meeting she had ever attended as a fuku-taichou, and she felt a brief moment of shock when she saw they were all assembled, waiting on them. There were even Central members in one corner, as well as the taichou of Zero. Everyone had come out, apparently, to see her sealed properly and officially begin the inquiry she knew was coming.

Nanao pulled Akane aside as she followed her uncle up to the front of the room, through the two lines of taichou assembled in their normal formation. Zero-taichou stepped forward, a black band in his hands, and the reiatsu inhibitor was snapped around her neck quickly.

She fought the weakness that threatened to drag her down when it cut off her power.

Charges were read off, although she barely listened. She did understand that she was being charged with treason, something about attempting to overthrow the balance, and three counts of murder as well as the murder of humans she was not ordered to kill. She wasn't sure where that one came from. Finally, they were going to charge her with—she fought the urge to snort—remaining in the human world longer than her mission.

And then it was done. Just like that.

"Take her to the estate, Choujirou. And Akane."

The man nodded, stepping forward to grab her elbow, but she jerked it away from him and walked towards the large doors at the other end of the room.

She ignored the eyes she could feel following her as she moved, fought like hell to keep the mask over her face when all she wanted to do was curl back up in a bed and forget everything. She was ready for it all to be over.

Sasakibe and Akane swiftly caught up with her, and they had to literally jog to keep pace with her as they moved through the maze of buildings that made up Seireitei, heading for the estate that was a good twenty minutes away on foot. Neither tried to speak to her, thankfully, seeming to understand she was in a _mood._ They didn't comment when they reached the gates to the grounds and the shishi immediately appeared next to her, trotting to keep up with his master.

Sasakibe ran off to do something else once they entered the house—most likely going to report back—but Akane followed her all the way to her bedroom.

Still a soft blue mural on the wall.

"Are there—" she cleared her throat. "Pajamas, Akane? Something more comfortable?"

"Yeah," Akane said quietly, digging in the bag she had been carrying since they left the fourth.

She allowed Akane to help her get them on—her wrist was still hurting and she was almost too tired to do so herself—and let the girl brush through her hair, throwing it back up into her standard ponytail. Then she moved to the bed, Hidaruma hopping up beside her, and just lay there.

"Sensei?" Akane asked, her voice quiet, even in the silence of the house.

"Yeah?"

"What did he say?"

She laughed. It wasn't a happy sound.

"I'm a cold-hearted bitch, Akane. Did you know that?" The tears were coming again, flooding her eyes and building another ball of heaviness in her chest.

"Then he's not worth it," the redhead said, sitting gingerly on the bed behind the older woman and letting her hand rest lightly on her arm. She glanced at the pile of jewelry she had put on the nightstand earlier this morning—all pieces her sensei wore daily, each having some important anecdote, all given to her by someone or marking some important date in her life. "He has no idea."

"But I love him," she said, her voice breaking as the sobs finally came out, and she buried her face in the black fur of the whimpering hellhound.

Akane slid onto the bed, her arms coming around the older woman, and she felt her own heart break as she realized that her sensei had done it all for a happiness she would never get to have.


	34. Chapter 34

A/N: R & R! Enjoy!

* * *

"The Noble Sort"

* * *

All the taichou and fuku-taichou moved slowly through the courtyard in the First, many talking and gossiping about the events that had taken place.

Two men, two of the oldest there, were situated against one wall. They were waiting for the female of their trio to return to them—she was currently grilling her friend and fellow fuku-taichou, Isane. She had admitted to her taichou that she had been shocked by her friend's appearance, and she wanted to know what was going on. She hadn't been the only one; apparently very few knew what shape the Yamamoto heir had been in. Even Ukitake had seemed surprised.

What had been worse was that the little female wouldn't even speak to his friend. She kept glancing over at them and shooting him dirty looks.

"Do you know what that's about?"

"No idea, Ukitake."

The two women nodded at each other, at which point the brunette headed their way. But she stopped short, shooting the paler of the two a scathing look before turning on her heel and stomping off. She was the epitome of Injured Womanhood.

"Which did you anger, hmm, Ukitake?"

"I have no idea," he said, flabbergasted. Nanao-san had never acted like that toward him.

"Truly?"

_Oh_.

He sighed.

"Minako."

"They travel in herds, Ukitake, and you went and picked on one of the alpha females. Hoo-boy," his friend said, whistling. "And an injured one at that! Not a smart move, my friend."

"We just settled everything, I swear!"

"That's not how it looked earlier." The taller man pushed up his sakkat, his eyes shining beneath the rim of the hat. "She looked horrible."

"But _she_ told _me_ to leave!"

"Really?" he asked, his disbelief obvious.

"Well, she didn't say exactly that, but that's what she meant! I'm not that inept at this, you know. I do remember how the battle of the sexes works." He shot his friend a look. "I used to be the lady-killer, not you, remember?"

"Indeed I do, Pretty-Boy," he said, smacking his friend on the back. "But I get to go home to a lovely woman every night, and you've just pissed yours off."

"Thanks for the support, Kyouraku."

"No problem."

They started down the wooden porch surrounding the courtyard, but they were stopped by Unohana-san, who called out to them before they were able to make it to the gravel entrance of the division.

"Kyouraku-san, Ukitake-san."

"Retsu-san."

"Unohana-san."

They all nodded at each other, then watched as the fuku-taichou of the Fourth zoomed past, shooting a dirty look of her own at the taichou of the Thirteenth.

"I—I really don't believe this!"

"You have angered them, Ukitake-san," Unohana-san replied calmly, a quirky smile on her face. "An unimaginable feat considering your reputation, but it has been done."

"But—seriously, this is ridiculous!"

"They are merely being protective of their friend. Considering the fact that she has only recently returned to them, it is not so unbelievable. They are being a little overprotective at present, perhaps, but it will pass."

"But—" he stopped right outside the gates, turning to the medical shinigami to his left. "What did she tell them, that they're treating me like this? She hasn't even been out of the hospital a full day yet."

"I don't believe she told them anything, actually."

She turned to walk away, heading in the opposite direction towards the Fourth, but then she stopped, turning back to them. She titled her head to the side, and both men felt a chill go through their bodies—the look was coming.

"She was apparently in quite the state this morning, having cried most of the night. And we all know you were her last visitor—you snuck in to the hospital around midnight, yes?"

Both men stared at her, dumbfounded, but she merely turned and walked serenely away, her haori swaying with her steps. They turned to each other, sharing a look. Then Kyouraku's eyes turned dark and Ukitake shot him a guilty look.

"I didn't know…"

The taller man sighed.

"I know, Ukitake. But it's not me you'll have to worry about now, hmm? She's not my little fuku-taichou any longer. You made _sensei's_ _niece_ cry—I would stay away from the First for a few years."

The pale man stood, shocked and still, in the middle of the road for a long moment. Then he shook his head and quickly caught up with his friend, shooting a wary glance at the large gates they had just exited.

* * *

_Two Days Later_

Things had finally gotten somewhat back to normal.

Minako's trial would start the next week, but the girls had plans to take her mind off it with a night of drinking. They all hoped it would help—she was up and moving around, even making Akane continue with her daily training, but there still a fog around her most of the time.

Akane moved down the long hall that bisected the house, two bowls of rice and sticks of yakitori balancing in her hands, but she stopped as she passed the formal study—they would be eating in Minako's room tonight. Her sensei was too busy doing something on her laptop to come out for dinner, apparently, although she believed it was a way for Minako to avoid seeing her former taichou, who would be there for the evening meal tonight.

The sou-taichou looked up as she paused, his eyes fully open and almost giving her a heart attack.

"Do I want to know how many females will be converging upon my residence tonight?"

"Probably not," she murmured, shooting him a guilty grin.

"Hn."

She ignored his huffing; there was a grin on his face.

The old man wasn't so bad, really. He did seem to care about her sensei, and he wasn't making a fuss about the fact that the girls were protecting her like a newborn right now. He had even fought with her own family—they had come calling not too long after hearing she was back in Seireitei.

She hadn't expected his defense of her, but it was welcome. She had never had someone stand up for her like Minako and the sou-taichou did. And only the Kami knew how much she wanted to avoid any connection to her family.

She continued down the hall, humming lightly.

Things were getting better, slowly.

* * *

Four hours later Akane, Nanao, Isane, and even Yoruichi—she didn't know how they had worked that one out—had settled in her bedroom. There had been a brief moment where she wanted to just tell them all to leave, but then Akane brought out a box of sake, bottles clinking merrily.

At that point, she just felt grateful.

Nothing was feeling normal right now. She knew it was just the shock of everything that had gone on and the prospect of facing her trial. No matter how many times oji-san told her everything was taken care of, she would continue to worry. But she still didn't feel like herself, and it bothered her.

So a night with the girls seemed like it might, maybe, be a good idea.

At least, after Yoruichi was done hugging her and then punching her for pulling the wool over her eyes.

They had all gotten comfortable, lounging in different sleepwear, and were currently throwing back sake at an astonishing rate. Well, all but Nanao, who sipped slowly and seemed to be the only one not planning to get plastered.

She leaned over awkwardly, digging under the bed, and pulled out a deck of cards. It would give them something to do. She tossed the pack of cards onto the bed in the middle of the circle they had formed.

"What should we do?"

"Not cards," Isane said, her voice full of pleading. "Do you know how many nights I've spent playing cards with my division? I'm not up for anymore card games."

The five women stared down at the pack of cards as if it would tell them what they were supposed to do to keep themselves entertained.

"This is why you _always_ invite Matsumoto," Nanao murmured.

"Yeah, well, I didn't know her well. And the last time she saw me I was about to kill Ichimaru—didn't think it…prudent."

"She's probably over it already. Last time I spoke to her she was going on and on about some guy in the Sixth—or was it the Ninth? Anyway, she's been dating. Completely back to normal."

"Thank you for that completely unneeded status update, Isane." Akane laughed as the silver-haired woman shot a look toward the one they were there to cheer up. "What I want is something different. Hmm."

"It's hard to get different when you've done it all and then some, sensei," Akane said.

"Don't I know it," she muttered, before her face lit up and she grinned. "Got it!"

"What?" all the women asked, suspicious.

"Yoruichi, do you remember that drinking game we played when Kimiko got married?" Yoruichi nodded. "I can remember some of the commands, but I can't remember them all. What do you think?"

"It could work," she said, an evil smirk on her face.

"What is this game, Minako?" Nanao asked, suspicious look still present.

"American drinking game! Each card you draw has a command." She spread the cards out into a pile with her hands, and drew a four of diamonds. "Every number has a command, as does every letter card. Some are dares, some drinks, some just telling some secret you never wanted to spill."

Nanao looked wary now.

"It can be fun!" Minako protested. "Last time we ended up so drunk we passed out on a friend of mine's lawn after the bachelorette party. There's a video, somewhere, although I'm pretty sure we told the guy that took it to destroy it."

"You know he wouldn't get rid of that kind of blackmail material," Yoruichi remarked, turning her bottle up and finishing it off. She grabbed another out of the rapidly dwindling box.

"I know," she sighed.

"This is Circle of Death, isn't it?" Akane asked, her brow furrowed. "I don't think so, sensei. Last time _we_ played Kenta ended up naked and you had a hangover for three days. And it took us weeks to figure out where we had hidden the car keys from ourselves."

Poor Nanao actually looked a little scared now, while Isane was also looking a little nervous.

"I'll have you know I once won an entire box of manga from Lisa playing this game, thank you very much," she said as she formed a circle with the pile of cards, throwing the four back in. "I'll even go first."

She moved her hand around the circle, eventually drawing a card and holding it up for them all to see before tossing it into the middle of the card circle.

"Jack! Rule card! Right at the beginning, too!" She rubbed her hands together, thinking. "Okay, I call 'Little Man.'"

There were groans from the two women that had played the game before.

"What does that mean?" Isane asked.

"Every time you drink you have to remove the Little Man!" Minako demonstrated with her fingers, pulling the imaginary man from her bottle before taking a sip, then placing him back on top of her bottle.

"Ridiculous," Nanao scoffed.

"You think so now! Wait until you're drunk because you keep forgetting to remove his evil ass!"

Yoruichi drew next and unfortunately happened to draw a six. They both shrugged—there were no guys to give a drink to. They explained the problem and moved on to Isane, who was next in the circle. The tall fuku-taichou drew a two, and she was made to take a drink, then take another when they pointed out she had forgotten to remove her 'Little Man.'

Nanao was next, and she warily picked up a card and threw it to the middle for everyone to see. Yoruichi and Minako looked at each other, grinning, then screamed out:

"Nine! Bust a Rhyme!"

Akane swallowed loudly. Words were not her strong point when she drank.

* * *

Kyouraku moved the go piece slowly, his smile stretching across his face. The sou-taichou huffed at the loud shriek that came from the hall leading to the bedrooms, shaking his head. They were going to make sure he got very little sleep tonight, apparently.

"I should have sent them to the other house," he muttered, fingering a piece he was contemplating moving.

There was a round of laughter, then, the sounds of five women having way too much fun in a house that was typically as quiet as a mausoleum. He only hoped they didn't wake Hikaru; she was not the nicest person when woken from a sound sleep.

"It sounds like they're having fun. That's good, Yama-jii, remember?"

The older man huffed again, finally moving his piece.

But there was a small grin underneath his moustache; it had been a very long time since he had been interrupted by the squeals of females in his home. In a way it was nostalgic. As if the last eighty years could somehow be forgotten and they could all go back to normal at some point in the future. And once upon a time, this had been a normal part of his weekends—Minako and some friend squealing over something in her room. Usually a boy.

But he glanced over at the third chair, which was empty.

"Where is Juushirou?" he asked gruffly, one eye opening to stare at his student.

Kyouraku chuckled.

"I don't think you'll see him around until he's settled everything with Minako."

"Not Minako-chan?"

"I think it's time I let that go, hmm?" he said, moving another piece. "She's not under my protection anymore. Time to let her free."

"Does he think I will set him on fire? I would prefer to know as little as possible about their relationship. The fact that I am even allowing them to entertain the idea should be a most obvious clue to the boy."

They both stared at the board in front of them, contemplating the pieces and their next moves. The silent, calm atmosphere was destroyed by someone belting out a song in English, and they both shook with laughter.

"I think he's letting her calm down. I don't really know—he won't talk to me about it, actually."

"Interesting."

They shared a look.

* * *

The door creaked open slowly, and she turned her head to yell at the intruder but stopped herself.

"Up, ladies," a gruff voice boomed out, and she winced.

Her uncle picked his way through the female bodies scattered about the room, his cane whapping against female legs every so often as he smacked them fully awake. She sat up rubbing her eyes and pushed Yoruichi partially off of her. The woman was a cuddler of the first degree.

"Hikaru has breakfast ready, and then we have some business of our own to take care of, Minako. I suggest you all get up and get to the dining room."

She pouted at him; her head was banging and his voice was like the buzzing of a bee in the back of her brain.

It could be worse, though. Poor Nanao looked incredibly disoriented and very uncomfortable as she realized she was waking up in the sou-taichou's personal residence, hungover. Or maybe still drunk. Isane had already had this experience, as had Yoruichi, and they just rolled over, pushing up off of the surfaces they had slept on and groggily moving toward the packs they had stowed in the bathroom.

They knew the drill.

"It's early, oji-san," she whined, squinting her eyes at the brightness.

"Only to you. It is past midmorning for the rest of us."

Akane, closest to the door, had merely rolled over and attempted to go back to sleep. She had tried valiantly to make it to one of the guest bedrooms but fell far short of even making it into the hall. But his wake-up call didn't bother her, either. She had been living in the house for a few days; it didn't take long for the mystery surrounding the sou-taichou to leave once you shared a house with him and realized he was human.

He whacked her extra hard with his cane, right on her calf, and she yelped. The other girls cringed at the loud noise.

"Up, Akane. Or I'll send Hikaru in."

The redhead scrambled up, her hair in all directions and her eyes wide.

Facing the sou-taichou first thing in the morning was one thing—Hikaru was a demon if you didn't get up when she came in the room. It was a well-exercised threat for Minako, and she grinned at the girl's frantic pace.

Then she rolled out of bed herself, intent on at least finding a robe to throw on for breakfast; she could shower later.

Barely two hours later the girls had all left and Minako was seated in the formal reception room—she didn't understand why he couldn't just call it a living room—waiting with her uncle for the most dreaded guest they'd had since this all began.

Zero-taichou.

Last she knew, he was pissed. And she hadn't seen him since he had stuck the stupid reiatsu collar on her. She was dreading meeting with him.

But oji-san had said that Zero had two squads going through every bit of information they had, as well as her house. She had thrown a small temper tantrum about that—visions of ruined furniture and ripped up paintings had flooded her brain courtesy of the many episodes of crime dramas she had watched. She pictured ripped couch cushions and shoes thrown out of their boxes. It made her antsy.

She also knew, though, that Akane was surreptitiously on her way to the real world with her former taichou and Nanao to see exactly what had been taken. They had to know what they would be defending her against.

She heard the back entrance open—all of the special ops and shadow squad leaders tended to use the entrance nearest the public area of the house without actually ever using the front door—and she realized that he was there.

She sat up straighter, her mask of calm on her face.

A tall, dark man that she had only seen a handful of times entered the living room, his silver haori visible underneath the brushed aside cloak that granted him invisibility. He just nodded to them both and took up what she believed was his normal chair in here, closest to the door. Always worried about entrances and exits. As if it made a difference; all the furniture was arranged around a central point in the room.

Everyone was silent as he flipped through the large file he had brought with him, most likely containing every piece of evidence he intended to hang her with. Or so she thought—it was odd that the man, earlier so eager to see her punished, was now meeting with them outside of official channels.

He looked up from a specific paper—an image, she thought—and stared straight at her. She resisted the urge to fidget.

"I have something, here, and I want to know if you can verify what it is," he said, his voice low and even. She got the idea that he was holding something back, not unusual when dealing with men that were so wrapped up in secrecy.

"I'll do my best."

He leaned forward and passed the paper over to her. She could see it was an image, a grainy black and white one. It looked a lot like a security camera feed, but the date—

_Oh_.

"Where did you get this?" she asked, her eyebrows shooting to her hairline in disbelief.

"Your home is not the only one we have searched."

She nodded, staring at the image.

It was a picture of her. To be more specific, it was a picture of her almost eighty-five years before. Her hair was short, still, and she looked a little younger. But the most surprising was that she had on a medical gown of some sort, and she was passed out on a gurney in the middle of a room she couldn't identify.

"There are more."

Her head snapped up, and he began passing her even more papers, each one an image of herself with information taking up half of the page. Observations, medical read outs, heart rate, breathing rate, so much information.

He toyed with one of the papers, the last in the stack he had taken all the previous images from, but then handed it over to her. She barely glanced at it before turning her head, throwing it onto the low table in the middle of the couches. She breathed deeply, trying to force down the bile that had risen up her esophagus at the image.

"They were all recovered by one of my squads—he kept them very well hidden. With the amount of information he collected, I'm surprised I never noticed it before."

"_Idiot_. I can't believe he made that type of mistake."

"You should be glad he did. You now have photographic evidence that you are telling the truth—I'm not sure you would have gained my support without it." He stood, leaning over and organizing the photos into a neat stack before handing them to her uncle. She made sure not to look at his face as he took in the photo on the top of the stack—the one that showed Matsu hovering over her on the gurney.

"Is this 'good cop, bad cop' or something?" she asked, looking at him warily. The sudden change was unnerving. But he just ignored her question and continued on.

"If this had occurred when you were in the secret corps., it would have been billed as an assassination order, one I would have been forced to accept. Instead, I was given the choice to intervene in your trial—Central will be including my vote with theirs."

"I wasn't aware."

"You were not supposed to be, I believe. But it was the only way to assure that this proceeding was fair—we have all learned from the mistakes made with Aizen." He pulled another stack from the papers in the file spread across the couch, once again handing her a single sheet at a time. "All memos recovered from Central, most sent through Rashogen and Nishiori. These are only my copies—Central has the originals."

He pulled a smaller stack out, the last of the three separate stacks of paper he had in the folder, and held the top sheet up to her.

"That does not mean I do not have questions, however."

"It will all be covered when I give my testimony on Monday."

"I would like to know now." He shook the paper in his hand. "What is this?"

"It's a picture of me and a man I knew as Matsu at the beach in Miami. From 1987 I believe, although I could be wrong about the date." She felt a grin grow on her face at the picture; it had been one of her better trips to the beach, actually. "I thought he was human."

"There are thousands of photos and videos in your home—don't worry, we made copies, we did not actually remove them from your system or your property. Many of them include a man that I thought was—"

"He was a good guy. Most of the time, at least," she said, sending him a sympathetic glance. The guy looked like he'd been stabbed in the back. "I'm not sure how this all really worked out, if it was just a hidden part of him or…_what_."

He looked at the picture for a long moment, then set it back on the stack of papers that he had not shown her.

"You have another problem," he murmured softly, "one I was originally going to let you handle on your own. I'll admit I was being vindictive; you've killed three of my division members. But if what I've found is true, I'm not sure I can blame you for what you've done. I cannot say I would have acted…differently."

He pulled a folded, bent photo out of his haori, fingering the Polaroid before handing it to her.

"They cannot get you for treason; you have worked to maintain the balance of souls even when not in the service of the Gōtei divisions. Murder—it's a relative term, and with your uncle willing to back you and admit that the order came from his office, you'll be found not guilty. But the last two—you'll be found guilty."

"For staying in the human world too long? Last I checked Yoruichi and Urahara were just fine," she said incredulously, a scowl on her face.

"It's a slap on the wrist offense, even for active shinigami. The most I've ever seen them give is a few months detention for it, although I doubt you'll even face that for the offense."

"Then what's the problem?" she asked, still scowling.

"Where are you in that picture?"

She looked at the Polaroid, her mind whirring. In the years she had been gone she had visited more places than even she could remember. She flipped it over, but there was no date or place to give her a clue.

She was by a gnarled tree, in front of a jeep. There were tall grasses everywhere, and she looked dead tired in the picture. Still, she was grinning and her eyes shining, obviously excited about something. But—there. The jeep had a logo, and if she was correct…

"Africa. This was taken in the seventies—my first trip to see the Serengeti and the Sahel regions." She looked up at him, curious. "Where did you find this?"

"Your garage, actually, forgotten under some boxes." He sent her a tiny smirk, the first she had seen on his face. "Nice car, by the way."

"It's all original. I bought it brand new—one of the first batches of GTO's ever made." She fingered the picture, the image still holding her attention. "But why would a picture of me in Africa be the problem? I did go with Lisa, I'll admit, but I was a defect then. My involvement with others that had left wouldn't be surprising."

"And will be left out of the trial at your uncle's insistence. It is irrelevant, really. But do you remember what happened on that trip?"

"_Nothing_! We spent a month seeing animals, finding out that there was a food that apparently tasted like a potato mixed with a banana, and buying pretty fabric. And some sort of wooden bow-spear thing pygmies…I don't think I'm supposed to call them that…apparently hunt with." She sent him a look. "Why?"

"There is a full box of photos you took in Africa in your closet—you went there more than once?"

"Yeah. Three or four times, actually," she said. "It's a gorgeous continent, even though you have to beware the locals in certain areas—_oh._"

"You understand now."

"They can't possibly!" she exclaimed, shooting to her feet. She ignored her uncle's remonstrations and his order to sit down, moving around the couch and pacing behind him. "It was self-defense. What was I supposed to do, take a few bullets to the head and just accept my fate? I was in a gigai—it would've _hurt_."

"It doesn't matter. You knowingly killed humans."

"I _unknowingly_ wandered into the middle of a _civil war_! As far as we knew the area was peaceful—I was alone on that trip, just me and one of my friends from Egypt—we—how were we supposed to know that some dictator-to-be was about to make his move?"

"They found reiatsu in the area when konso was performed. The incident was logged, and when your imprint was taken at the hospital for the inquiry, it matched the wavelength in the database."

She turned to her uncle, her brow furrowed and hands fisted at her side. The poor, already wrinkled photograph was being crushed completely now.

"You knew about this already? Why hadn't you asked me about it?"

"Because I read the file and came to my own conclusions," he said, his calm demeanor never faltering.

"So they're going to put me in jail for something I did almost forty years ago to keep myself and a human alive. All because I wanted to see Ethiopia."

"Why would you go into a war zone, Yamamoto-san?" he asked, his face dark.

"It wasn't a war zone then!" she exclaimed, her hands flailing as she talked. "There had been some talk in the international news about some tension, but Selassie was still in control when we wandered that way. He was known for what he had been able to accomplish in the country—it was considered safe, for Africa, and it's one of the most historic regions in the world. I wanted to see some of the sights. And it was one of the few countries where I wouldn't have to wear a burka or hajib!"

"What—"

"Islamic dress," she said, waving her hand, "not important, other than the fact that I _hate_ the burka—it makes kimono seem comfortable."

"So you ended up in the country right when a civil war sparked."

"A coup, actually," she said, sighing and flopping back down onto her seat. The angry energy was gone now; it always burned out pretty quickly. "The early seventies were weird internationally, with the gas crisis and the collapse of colonialism. There were some tensions among political ideological lines, capitalism versus socialism, communist doctrine spreading, lots of revolution and anarchy amongst the growing guerrilla groups. It's really the beginning of the terrorist tensions they're dealing with now."

"I understood none of that, Yamamoto-san," he admitted.

"It doesn't matter; it's human history. All you really need to know is that the time period we're talking about was full of war. Not world war scale, but there were a few of us that wondered how bad it would get. And it was all guerrilla warfare, which made it worse—you didn't know when it would happen. At least in WWII we knew to duck down when we heard a plane. But I didn't let it stop me from traveling."

"Why not?"

"Because the world was exciting," she said, her eyes shining. "So much to see, everything different and new. And it was a way to pass the time."

"Either way, they'll give you a guilty verdict on this and throw you in prison. Killing a human is forbidden."

"So I'm going to get a pass on everything except defending my life and that of a human from a revolutionary group. Fantastic," she bit out. "Are they going to try and get me for the stabbings at the Beijing Olympics? I did attend, you know."

He shook his head.

"Unless you can somehow come up with a witness to the event that will prove beyond a doubt it was in self-defense, they will use it against you."

"The only person that was with me is dead now; she was human." She rubbed her face, staring down at the table. "The only defense I could possibly muster comes from history books and the financial documents that prove I was there when the coup happened."

"Then you should gather what you can and hope it is enough."

She scoffed, hanging her head.

She was _screwed._


	35. Chapter 35

A/N: So sorry for the late updates. Real life interfered heavily. I was supposed to be moving, starting a new job, all these things. Instead, there was a literal corporate shake-up last week and my boss just walked out in the middle of everything. Well, the guy that would have been my boss. So I'm now unemployed and scrambling to get everything back in order. Fanfiction hasn't exactly been a big priority with my life trying to fall apart.

But, as I always try to remember, things can always get better very quickly!

So I hope you all enjoy this update, and please, R & R if you did. I would especially love any constructive criticism; once I have this monster fully posted I'm going through and completely editing the story from the beginning. There are scenes I left out I want to include, things to revamp, etc. I cringe at some of what I've written.

Anyway, Enjoy!

* * *

"The Noble Sort"

* * *

Akane bounded up the three stairs leading to the porch and across the wooden floor before landing right in front of the door.

She was _home_.

Minako's house really felt like home to her; she had spent more time here than she had ever spent at her own apartment. And it had a feel that the normal temporary housing for exiled shinigami never did—pictures, paintings, nice furniture. It was no wonder she was so protective of the place.

And now others would be wandering through it.

She understood the need, she really did. And the fact that Nanao and Kyouraku-taichou were the ones chosen made it a little easier.

It was the white-haired taichou tagging along that made her uneasy.

Minako would not be happy to know that the man that thought so little of her would now be rifling through her house to find anything that could be used to build her defense, especially in the little matter she was probably screaming about right now. If Akane had timed it right, they had already broken the news about Africa to her.

She didn't blame her sensei. She had seen the world, too, even if she hadn't traveled near as much. Humans were freakin' crazy. They seemed to love war. And the first rule was that you had to assure your own survival; if it came down to her or revolutionaries, she knew she'd choose herself any day.

She turned the key in the lock, swinging the door open, and barred the entryway as soon as the living room was visible to the three people standing behind her. There were ground rules to lay down.

"Okay. Number one: don't touch her shoes. Number Two: there is a car in the garage that is absolutely off limits no matter what you want to do with it. She's threatened to maim me for just looking at the monster the wrong way; she'll kill you if you do anything to it."

Three people stared back at her, their expressions comical.

"Three: she mostly just lets things slide, but certain things are very organized. If you pick something up, put it right back where you found it unless it's coming with us—safer that way." She turned to the big man in pink, scowling. "And Four, just for you: if you so much as think about touching her lingerie drawer, I've been authorized to kill you slowly or have Nanao do it for me."

Nanao smirked as her lover wilted.

"It's not like there's much there anyway," she muttered, "sensei doesn't wear them if she can get away with it."

The fiery redhead gave a peculiar little grin herself when she caught the gargling cough that came out of Ukitake-taichou's throat. It might have been evil, but he deserved it.

Akane stepped into the living room, allowing them to finally enter the house. They all looked around, heads swiveling. She wondered if it was the newness of a human dwelling or the fact that it was Minako's inner sanctum, her _home_, her personality spread across the rooms.

"And don't damage the furniture. She gets pissy about that."

Akane left them in the living room; it would be a minute before they came out of their stupor. She had to get the keys to the walk-in closet where Minako stored all her information. She dug through the utility drawer and was amazed to find that Zero—who had undoubtedly gone through the thing themselves—had even put the key back where they found it. Amazing.

"What happened here?"

She turned, seeing that Nanao had made it into the dining room, and she sweatdropped. 

_The table._

The two taichou followed quickly, both with wide eyes and eyebrows raised at the very large stain marring the gorgeous wooden table. Nothing had been able to get the blood out, but they hadn't had time to replace it.

"It became a hospital. There's stuff to do, you know. No more gawking at the table."

None of them moved to follow her into the hallway.

She sighed, then cleared her throat.

_Tablecloth. Must buy a tablecloth._

"C'mon! We have a lot to dig through here!"

She moved down the hallway to Minako's bedroom—she glanced into her own and perked up when she saw it was in the same shape she had left it in—and she threw open the door, wincing, expecting to find a whirlwind of crap strewn around. Instead her sensei's room was exactly as she had left it.

She straightened the duvet absently while she waited on the three behind her to catch up.

"Yoruichi brought all the clothes and toiletries we would need already, even the laptops. But she didn't know how to get in the closet to get what we needed, and I'm not supposed to tell anyone where the key is." She moved to one of the two doors on the opposite side of the room; one was a regular closet, one was the "vault."

She slipped the key into the deadbolt and then the actual doorknob, then swung the door open. It was heavy—sensei had reinforced the little room with something she said was fireproof so that everything inside would be safe. She pocketed the key and then swept her hands out in a dramatic gesture.

"The vault, ladies and gentlemen."

"The vault?" Kyouraku-taichou asked, a bit of amusement in his voice.

"It's what we call it. Everything in here is important." She moved into the small room—it had once been the master bathroom—and kicked some of the boxes in the floor out of the way to make a path. "All the financial information is on that wall, second shelf. Bank records, tax information—when she paid—credit card bills, all of it."

"She kept every piece of it?" Nanao asked.

"Every bit." She slapped another group of binders a shelf down. "Identity information. You'll have to pull it by year and see who she was to match it all up."

"Who she was, Akane?"

The redhead looked at the other woman.

"We have many aliases." She gestured to the other wall, which was filled with cubed shelving instead of just long boards filled with binders. "This is all photos, papers, Kami only knows what else. I'm not sure how it's organized, either. But sensei doesn't throw things away, so there's no telling what you'll find in there."

"Good God, Akane-san," Ukitake-taichou said, and she scowled at him.

"It's a lot, yes. But no one said you had to be here." She moved through the boxes on the floor to a group of square things covered by tarps at the very back of the vault. "The boxes are just things we haven't filed yet, or—oh, we did mark them! Some of them are filled with books. We didn't have enough room to put them all out in the living room when we moved them into the house from her old apartment. No extra room here, really, not with two people and all the furniture."

She grinned at the looks on their faces.

"What?"

* * *

Two hours later, they were all still digging.

They had broken it up into sections, each covering one specific thing. Nanao was digging through the financial information to find the receipts for the plane tickets and the hotels. There were most likely also bank account transaction records that would show she was in Ethiopia at the time.

Kyouraku-taichou was going through the binders of identity information. Thankfully it was arranged by date, but he had to find not only her alias but also her passport and other information for the person she had been at that time. It should have been easy, but he kept getting sidetracked. She had slapped his hands away from things more than she thought possible.

Ukitake-taichou, who brought a scowl to her face just by thinking about him, was going through the two file boxes they had found that were just marked "Africa." She had seen him pull out pictures, papers, even some type of sarong garment. He looked at everything as if it would answer every question he had.

That was the only saving grace he had as far as she was concerned.

He was obviously interested in her sensei's life. He took way too long to look at photos and piece together information, deciding what they needed and what they didn't. She realized, in the back of her mind, that this was not the behavior of a man who was not interested in someone. But she was torn, too; he had hurt Minako badly with whatever he had said to her. She didn't want him to be there, digging through her sensei's memories after that.

And she had seen the longing look he had sent towards the other boxes. It was obvious that he wanted to dig through them, but she kept them on track.

He had no right to go through Minako's life, not after what he had done to her.

Still, though…

She couldn't help but be undecided now. She knew her sensei loved him. In an ideal world, she would like for her to be happy. If he made her happy that was fine. Everything she knew about him suggested he was actually a really nice guy. Except—except he had still managed to hurt her sensei.

She wasn't sure what to think, so she just acted as if he was a bug on the bottom of her shoe and went on. If he ever apologized she could clear the air later.

Finally, she was digging through the cd's and even floppy disks that were stacked in one of the boxes. She knew some of the pictures were digitized—they had been working on scanning them all and loading them onto the hard drives. She needed to find the back-ups.

But they'd been in there for hours—her neck was hurting and she could really use a drink.

She stood, stretching, and pushed the box she had been working on to the side. She stepped around the two in the room with her—way too crowded—and then made her way around the large taichou of the Eighth, who was blocking a good portion of the floor in front of the closet.

"I'm going to make some tea. I'll be back with drinks."

All she received were nods as they kept rifling through papers.

She made her way to the kitchen and put the kettle on, readying the small tea service they had and getting the tea bags ready to go. The water didn't take long to boil; sensei had invested in an electric stove that could boil water in less than five minutes. When the kettle finally whistled she poured the hot water over the tea bags and made her way, slowly, to the bedroom, intent on just letting everyone fix their own tea and be informal about it.

She almost dropped the tea tray when she rounded the corner.

Kyouraku-taichou had found the things she had made sure to keep them away from, apparently. She should have known better.

"What—those aren't _yours_!"

He just grinned at her, still rifling through the large canvases at the back of the vault. She set the tea tray down heavily on the small computer desk and stomped her way over, ignoring the attention Nanao and Ukitake-taichou were now giving Kyouraku-taichou and herself. She pulled the painting he was currently admiring out of his hands and set it back against the far wall, moving to throw the tarp back over the whole group.

"Akane-san, Minako still paints?"

"No, I do," she deadpanned. "Of course she does. But they're private—I haven't even seen all of these. The ones around the house, yeah, but these are _special_! Put it down!"

Now the other two were moving this way, and she felt herself start panicking. Minako would throw a fit if she knew they had seen the paintings. It was why they were covered, the same with the three boxes marked with black x's back in the corner by them.

"I was sure she had stopped long before she left," the man said as he pulled the tarp from her hands. "Let me see, now. Ah, beautiful work."

He held the picture up for the other two to see, and she put her face in her hands.

"She's gonna kill us all," she muttered.

"Now, why would she do that?"

"Uh, because you don't know what _private_ means?" she snapped, blushing as she tried to pull the painting from his hands without damaging the canvas.

"He never learned," Nanao muttered, and she heard Ukitake-taichou laugh.

"Or perhaps because of this?" he said, amused. He held up the very large painting of two young men and one older man, all three on a training ground surrounded by fire.

"That's for the sou-taichou. She did the one in his office, too. So don't get any ideas."

"I didn't know that!" Ukitake-taichou exclaimed, and she shot him a look.

"Because she doesn't want anyone knowing it's hers." She finally got a hold of the painting Kyouraku-tiachou was currently holding and put it back in the pile, quickly throwing the abandoned tarp over them. "Stop nosing around. Next thing you'll be watching all the videos and looking…at…what's that look for?"

"_Videos_?" he asked, looking like someone had just offered him Christmas in July with Halloween thrown in for good measure.

"No," she said forcefully, nudging the black-marked box behind her even further into the corner with her heel. "No videos, no digging through the sheet music, _no_. You knew she painted, you probably know she plays, but leave it alone. It's her private stuff."

"Zero will have already looked at most of it, Akane-san," he said, still excited and eying the boxes she was protecting.

"But Zero's squad members don't know her. It's different."

"So some of it is embarrassing, then?" He pulled gently on her shoulders, his grip like steel. She was gonna lose this battle if the others didn't help her. Unfortunately, they didn't look the last bit worried. If anything, they look resigned, as if they were used to this.

_Damn_.

"Please don't. How would you like it if people went rifling through your things?" she pleaded, but he just continued to scoot her aside, then knelt on the ground and opened one of the boxes. "Oh, shit, she's gonna _toast_ you, you realize that, right?"

"But Akane-san, this is just sheet music! Nothing too bad!"

She quickly sat down on one of the marked boxes he hadn't touched yet, resolute. She wasn't moving from this position. If she had guessed right, this one held the videos. There were people on these videos they had no right knowing about, including Kenta, Isamu, and even Rin and Mori. They were not important to this, and they didn't deserve to be pulled into it.

And then there was the fact that some of them were embarrassing, and not just for Minako. They were both camera people. There were cd's full of video files in these boxes with them dancing, singing, drinking, and just generally making fools of themselves when the mood struck. She wasn't going to let him look at them if she had to stab him to keep him from them.

Thankfully, Ukitake-taichou came to her rescue, pulling his friend to his feet and steering him toward the tea in the bedroom. She sighed, relieved, and boxed the music back up and pushed it to the back.

They had no right to see that side of her sensei. It was private.

She groaned as Elvis Costello, of all things, blared out of the speakers of the stereo in the bedroom—he was touching things again.

* * *

_Later that Night_

"Well then, old friend?"

He glanced at his oldest friend, who was sprawled out on the porch in front of his quarters with one ear turned towards his rooms. Listening for Nanao-san to finish whatever she was working on, no doubt.

"I don't know, Shunsui," he murmured, his gaze drifting across the garden area in front of them.

"Come now, Juu," Shunsui said, his melodical voice low. "I can tell—your mind has been working overtime since we returned."

Was there any way to really explain it?

He had sat there and accused her of not having a heart. He had let his anger take over, something that was rare for him. He was usually the one who thought everything out, but he would admit his emotions had taken control.

It had been a bad situation. They had all been worried, and the shock of everything just compounded the situation. Then, when he was finally able to confront her about everything he had learned that day, he had been tired and she had been in no mood to take his condescension. He didn't blame her one bit for it—he had known she was different than he, but still he had condemned her for it.

And walking into that house—seeing where she had lived, had _bled_ to get as far as she had—had been too much. He said she had no heart, but a woman with no heart did not paint, did not play the piano. A woman with no heart did not have boxes upon boxes of photos and take-out menus from strange cities and fliers of the places she wanted to remember visiting.

He was an idiot. And he said so.

"I could have told you that, Juu."

"I told her—right after she killed a man she must have cared for at some point—I told her she had no heart, Shunsui. I was angry—no, I was _jealous_," he admitted, shaking his head. "I let him get to me. I let the fact that he had been part of her life get the best of me."

"It happens to us all, although I can't believe you thought she had no heart. She might be a vicious fighter, but that means she has more heart, not less." The bigger man pulled his sakkat off his head, rotating it in his hands. "Are you asking for advice?"

"Is there any you can give me that won't make it worse?"

"You think I haven't made my share of mistakes with Nanao-chan?" Shunsui chuckled. "I've slept on my couch more in the last three years than I ever did before."

"I'm sure you deserved every bit of it," he muttered, smiling.

"She's a hard woman to love, but then the best always are." His friend sighed, staring at the stars above them. "If you think she's worth it, then you apologize. Do whatever you must to fix it."

"You think it can be fixed, then?"

"I'm sure it can. She's already calmed down from what I hear. Even Nanao-chan will talk to you again," Shunsui teased, and he swatted at the larger man halfheartedly.

"That isn't funny at all!" he groused.

"Usually I'm the one dealing with women running in the opposite direction—I enjoyed seeing someone else get the cold shoulder for a few days!"

"I did not realize—truly, I had no idea—"

"Women are mysterious creatures, Juu. We poor males are best-suited to worshiping them, not understanding them."

"Maybe I _have_ been out of the game too long," he said, shrugging.

"Nah. You just have to get back in the swing of things. Let her get through this trial and then, when everything has settled some, just talk to her. Try apologizing—I know you've not had to say sorry since the Academy, but it works wonders."

Shunsui laughed as Juushirou smacked his hat out of his hands, grabbing it and throwing it like a Frisbee onto the grass in front of them. The men both leaned back against the wall, shoving with their shoulders and grinning like schoolboys.

"Yare, Nanao-chan's gonna have to go get that now—you'll be in _trouble_," Shunsui teased, and Juushirou just huffed out a laugh.

* * *

_The past two days had been tense, but the capital seemed peaceful, so they didn't worry about it. The students had actually stopped protesting this morning; there were no military guards on the corners. Everything was more settled than many countries she had visited. There was little to worry about._

_Then everything changed quickly. Marching was gone but the tension turned into rioting, to looting, and fires broke out, flaring across the city with smoke rising like geysers. _

_She watched as Sara talked on the phone, her father explaining the news they were getting back in Cairo and the tearful shouts for his daughter to come home quickly. She had hung up the phone and contacted their pilot, who told them to hurry. He wouldn't stay past the morning. The late hours of the night had been spent packing, preparing, and planning for the long trip through what had become a dangerous city overnight. _

_Around three that morning—they had already been up preparing to leave—everything had gotten worse. There was a crashing boom, the hotel shaking and trembling as something exploded a few blocks down and the employees were going room from room suggesting all the foreigners get out as soon as possible. Men in suits and the wives of diplomats and businessmen were being loaded into sleek cars and herded down streets with broken windows, armed guards all around. Children were crying, women were pleading for information, men were tight-lipped and scared._

_Everyone was abandoning the city. _

_Sara pressed a gun into her hand before they ever left the hotel, a small weapon she had bought off one of the employees. The two weapons they carried had cost more than the plane fare._

_Everything around them was burning, broken, the car traveling tiny streets at a speed that whipped around scattered paper and forced men and women in the streets to fly sideways. But they had no choice—slowing down meant dying. Neither woman was prepared to stop for any reason._

_Then, the airport came into view. It was little more than three hangars and a landing strip, but it was freedom for them. _

_They abandoned the vehicle and most of their luggage, only taking what they could throw in their small carry-ons, and moved toward the tarmac on foot. They were in sight of the plane when they were overtaken by a small contingent of the Ethiopian military, most likely kids that were just enjoying the anarchy the military was supporting. _

_There had been little choice. She and Sara were going to walk away unharmed or the military men—set on robbing and killing them for the sport, the money, who knew—were going to win. And both women did what they had to. _

_She could remember the face of one of the boys when he shot at her and she dodged, rolling, evading his every move before he made it. She could still see the shock on his face as she waved the gun in his face and threw him on the ground, screaming at him in Arabic to just leave them alone. But he didn't, and she shot, and blood covered the dead grass._

_And another came at her—she could hear herself screaming at Sara to run to the plane, that she could handle the last few—and she felt more than heard the bullet that whizzed toward her and then through the sensitive skin of her calf. Damn gigai made everything painful. He couldn't shoot, he wasn't trained, it was wrong. It blared in her head but there was no choice—_

She woke breathing hard, but not screaming. Apparently Akane had too much experience dealing with her dreams; the girl knew how to make sure others wouldn't be bothered.

She pulled the thick piece of fabric away from her mouth and blinked at the sudden light, then nodded to the redhead. Akane just sent her a tremulous smile and backed out of the room slowly. Most likely the girl wasn't surprised; with everything they had gone through tonight, and everything that had happened the past few days, it was bound to happen. She never made it through such things without her sleep being affected.

Still—she hadn't realized how clear it was in her memory.

She could remember the coup, remember what happened after getting shot for the first time. They had climbed onto the plane and took off into clouds of smoke as part of the city burned, Sara in shock and Minako breathing harshly. She hadn't had to kill someone in years. And poor Sara, she hadn't seen anyone die in front of her since World War II.

They spent the next month in Cairo watching as the Ethiopian government fell and recovering from the shock of wandering into a revolution. It wasn't Minako's first, but she had usually had enough warning to get out of the country before something happened. She had never been there when the chaos broke.

It wouldn't be the last time, either. She had spent much of 2008 traveling as well, a bad year for travelers. She was in Beirut visiting a fellow exile when the city was bombed, then she had gone to China and been at the Olympics when the stabbings occurred. Instead of finishing out her China trip and moving on to Hong Kong, she immediately bought a ticket home and stayed put. Shopping in the famous markets of Hong Kong wasn't nearly as important as getting home to normal life.

Then, Aizen struck and travel was the last thing on her mind.

And now it was all coming back to haunt her. She had never thought a coup she had been part of for less than a day would be the deciding factor in her future so long after the fact that most of the world had forgotten it occurred.


	36. Chapter 36

A/N: Notes for this week's update can be found in Chapter 35.

Enjoy!

* * *

"The Noble Sort"

* * *

_Monday Night_

There was a knock at the door.

"Minako?"

The slender woman turned in her chair at the desk, immediately minimizing the window she had pulled up on her laptop. She doubted Akane would be interested in the document, but it was better not to tempt it at the moment.

"Yes?" she replied, a teasing tone in her voice as she flipped her long ponytail back over her shoulder.

"I just got back. How did yours go?"

She sighed, turning back to the computer and pushing the screen down. It was _this_ conversation, then. She gestured to the bed, and Akane sat gingerly, her formal kimono obviously making her uncomfortable. She didn't even bother the sleeping dog on the other side. He just huffed and rolled a bit.

"Fine, I guess. Who knows? I go back tomorrow morning for the last round now that all of you have given your versions. They'll probably drill me for any inconsistencies." She shrugged. "I'm not worrying about it at the moment."

"But this—they'll decide what happens, right?" Akane asked in a worried tone, frowning.

"Yeah. And?"

"What is wrong with you?" Akane asked, her frustration showing as she ran a hand through her short red hair. "You aren't even fighting this."

"Last lesson I'll probably ever give you, Akane—know when to stop fighting." She turned, digging in the desk drawer, before pulling out a sealed envelope and tossing it to the bed. Akane stared at it warily. "No matter what I say, Central already made their decision. This is all a formality. I'll either be free or go to jail—no reason to fight anymore."

"Then why—but Saturday—"

"All the evidence wasn't in Saturday. I had no idea what I would be facing then. Now I do," she said dryly, her eyes not leaving her protégé.

"You've never just stopped fighting. Something's going on and you won't tell me what," Akane spit out.

Minako sighed.

Akane knew she had met with the leader of Zero, and she knew what everything had been about. But Minako hadn't filled her in on all the details. It was better that the girl continue to think she had a chance in this—she did, really, if oji-san's machinations worked out, but she didn't want to let the girl know everything she had learned.

So she had helped her organize everything they had found Saturday night, but that had been the last of her resistance against Central. It wouldn't matter any further.

"If Zero-taichou is right, they want to make an example of me. If oji-san is right, I'll be let off because he made his position clear to enough of Central's members. There isn't anything I can do to change the proceedings now."

"And this?" the girl asked, picking up the enveloped and tracing the seal with her fingers. It was literally bulging at the seams.

"That is every yen I had on me when I visited the bank before we came. It's enough to get you out of the country and safely hidden with Rin and Mori." She looked the girl in the eye, serious. "I'll know by tomorrow night how this will go down—Central doesn't like to drag things out. If I tell you to, you use that last bit of juice on the cell phone to get Isamu and Kenta to meet you somewhere in Rukongai and you go."

"But Minako—"

"No," she said, her voice hard. "If I get thrown in jail I want you safely away from Seireitei. You know where the emergency kits are. You grab one of yours and you go. Rin and Mori are well hidden, they know how to help you do the same. I'm not going to see you go to jail after the fact because Central wants to keep it all under wraps."

"I haven't looked at all that stuff in years—what if Zero has it all?"

"They don't. You know where the key and information for the lock-box at the bank is; there are three more identities for both of us in there. And your name was put on the accounts—if anything should happen, you can clean them out and run as far as you need to." She grinned at the girl's surprised face. "Please—you didn't think I had everything in the house, did you? I've been hiding almost a century now; I'm not that stupid."

"But what about you?" Akane asked plaintively. "You're just gonna let them throw you in jail?"

"I might not have any choice. Don't worry—if I go to jail, I won't be staying there long. You know me better than that. But I'd like you safe and gone when I make my move, if I have to."

"All this because of Ethiopia? Are you sure you're not just being too paranoid?"

"_Please_," she said, turning back to the computer and lifting the screen. It was black, a small window asking for the password she wouldn't give until Akane was out of the room. "It's more because they need someone to take the fall for what happened, even if it's the victim. It can't be neatly tied up and put away without a scapegoat. And you can never be too paranoid."

"It's stupid."

"Maybe." She turned to look at the girl over her shoulder. "You should get to bed; I know you'll be up and out with us in the morning."

Akane nodded, lifting herself from the bed awkwardly in the formal kimono; it was why Minako hated them—restricted movement. She reached over to muss Hidaruma's black fur once before dragging her feet on the way to the door, obviously not wanting to leave.

"You need anything?"

"No. Hikaru will bring me a cup of tea in a moment and I'll be fine until bed. You go get some sleep." She turned back to the computer, hearing the door shut softly as the girl let herself out of her bedroom.

_If it should be as bad as you think, they will care for her._

_I know, shishi._

_Do not be so upset about it. She is not your pup, onna._

_Might as well be. _She sighed. _Feels like she is sometimes. She acts enough like me to be my child._

_But she is not. You have done all you can to prepare her for what might happen. Rest assured that your training and your friends' protection will be enough. _

She stared at the black writing on the screen, her teeth digging into her lip sharp and tangy with the copper taste of blood.

* * *

Minako looked at the elaborate kimono spread across her bed. It really was a gorgeous garment. But still—she hated kimono with a passion.

And this was ending today.

She glanced longingly once, twice at the new clothing Akane had brought back from the real world trip on Saturday. That was her now; hell, even before she didn't wear kimono unless forced. Did she really want to go through this as someone else?

_No_.

She grabbed the standard black skinny jeans, tall black boots, and two of the shirts Akane had brought. Not the least bit formal, but the oversized sleeveless sweater-jacket was nice enough to be "dressy." And the top was black—all her normal.

Akane would be pissed since she was in kimono, but she'd get over it.

_It's me they're trying; it's time they see who I really am now._

Hidaruma grinned on the floor.

* * *

There were more people than normal milling about in the courtyard of the Central buildings.

She could see a few taichou, even. Oji-san and Kyouraku-taichou weren't surprising in the least, but she also saw her _former _lover, the taichou of the Second, and—she couldn't remember his name at the moment, but she just called him "brick wall." She remembered meeting him three years ago but couldn't get the name to come to her.

There were clerks everywhere, too. Not surprising.

The two Zero members that had been her escort yesterday and today were ignoring the attention, continuing on towards the large doors that blocked the actual chambers from the courtyard and offices. She did the same, but she was ignoring her uncle's obvious frowning at her clothing instead of the bustling people.

Seriously, she was not going to be sorry today.

And then the doors opened, they passed through into the crowded chamber that would once again mean she was the focus of everyone in the room, and she forgot those outside. They weren't important anymore.

The doors slammed shut and the Zero members split up, each guarding a side of the doors. As if she would try to run now.

_Please._

She strode quickly but confidently to the chair and table in the middle of the floor—she didn't even glance at the men and women in the balconies in front of her. Everything was still there, still organized exactly how she had left it the night before. They hadn't even touched her evidence—a surprise.

Hell, it was surprising they had learned something from human legal practices. It was mind-blowing that she was even allowed evidence.

There was a loud bong, like someone hitting a cymbal or a drum, and then the apparent leader of the Central Forty-Six, a man she did not know, stood from his seat in front of her and declared the session open.

They talked without her for almost an hour, debating different information, allowing or turning down different questions members wanted to ask her. She felt the need to stand up and ask if she needed to be there but pushed it down.

She fingered the hilt of the sword at her hip—at least she was being treated with some dignity and allowed her weapon. Not that she could use it.

Finally they came to some sort of decision, as the room got quiet and the man—leader, whatever—once again stood and looked straight at her.

"Everything has been taken into consideration. All members have been allowed to view the evidence presented and posed their individual questions, which have been compiled into a master list. You will answer and then be released until we have made a decision."

She nodded, her red fingernails tapping the table rhythmically.

"You have sat in front of this tribunal previously—you know you must verbally reply, Yamamoto-san," he said, his voice sharp.

"Yes, sir. I understand."

"Very well." He shuffled through some loose papers before him, then glanced back at her. "Why did you choose not to report the original attack upon your person?"

She sighed.

"I've already told you, I did. If reporting it to the sou-taichou did no good, why would I go to someone in the Fourth about it?" she said, exasperated.

"You reported the incident to the sou-taichou as a family member, not as a shinigami."

"He could have prodded me to make a criminal report; he did not. I assumed I was supposed to drop it. And technically I did report it to someone in the Fourth, I just opted to have them keep it private as part of patient privilege."

"Indeed. Isakawa-san, your question."

A man in one of the back balconies stood, his grey hair and white beard immediately reminding her of her uncle.

"Can you honestly testify that you were in the company of Matsuno-fuku-taichou for over twenty years, periodically, without noticing his reiatsu or zanpakutou?"

"He was Zero—he hid it. Well," she bit out.

"Katara-san."

"You were in the human world almost a century; we have asked for a complete report on every movement. I will admit the report you gave filled in the timeline more than I believed possible, but there are still gaps of time where you cannot account for your whereabouts."

"I cannot remember every place I went," she said, shrugging. "I know you want to be sure I wasn't wreaking havoc all over the globe, but I can't dredge up eighty years of memories and evidence in the few days I was given. I've accounted for everything I could remember—Zero filled in what they could from my records. If there is a particular time you are concerned about—" the man shook his head, "then all I can give you is what you already have."

"Ayama-san," the leader said, and a middle-aged woman near the front stood, her face stone.

"It would take an immense amount of planning to assassinate three members of Zero, even with the resources of the Gōtei divisions and the sou-taichou. Some of the equipment found on your person is distressing—you expect us to believe you were able to pull this off alone?"

"Not totally alone, no," she admitted. "You know that Katsumoto Akane was serving as my protégé during my voluntary exile. She helped by serving as a messenger, which you also already know. The rest I did alone—I have many contacts in the human world with former shinigami that are able to get their hands on what I have already admitted was forbidden technology."

"Reiatsu inhibitors are very hard to get, Yamamoto-san."

"And I paid a high price for them, much more than they cost the Second to get made," she forced out.

"I would like to clarify how you received these items, Yamamoto-san."

"I was told I would not have to implicate any other defectors or exiles during this trial."

"You do not—both of the reiatsu inhibitors in your possession were models that I find it hard to believe have made it to the real world already. They have only been in use inside the secret corps. for a few decades. You must have gotten them from a connection inside Seireitei."

"I won't implicate anyone. I was told I wouldn't have to."

"If we have a security leak inside the corps., we must know, Yamamoto-san. I understand your previous ties could have given you the chance to keep legitimate connections inside Seireitei. While your loyalty is commendable, their loyalty is obviously in question. "

"And if they were gotten from an exile? All I will say is that _I_ did not get them from someone inside the corps., so I cannot give you a name."

Frustrating! These were all questions she had answered when they spent five hours drilling her the day before.

She looked at the main speaker still seated in front of the central dais—he was once again silently reading a paper in front of him.

_It's now or never._

"This has all been covered. Why don't you just ask me what you _want_ to _know_?"

There were murmurs and muttering from many of the men and women seated in front of her, but she ignored their hisses. She wanted to get this all over with and just _be_ until they decided her fate. She was tired of the entire situation.

He gave her a long, hard look.

"Very well."

A man stepped out from the shadows behind her, and she resisted the urge to turn and face whoever was coming up behind her. But Zero-taichou was right beside him, now, so this had been planned. They were just going to wait until the end to get to it, apparently. Figures.

"Yamamoto-san, you can well guess that there is one incident we wish for more information on. Unfortunately, all you can give us is your version of the events that occurred in the human region of Ethiopia in 1974." The speaker gestured to the man accompanying Zero-taichou, and the unnamed shinigami raised his zanpakutou.

It immediately turned into a very long needle, and a shiver of apprehension sped down her spine.

_Shit._

"I have been informed that you are familiar with memory zanpakutou."

"Yes," she said, eyeing the new man warily. That thing looked nothing like her old friend's zanpakutou.

"This shinigami works solely for Central. His zanpakutou gives him the ability to look into your mind and read your memory, at which point he will report back everything he sees about the events you have described, down to your emotional state throughout the events in question. If even one piece of information should vary from what you have previously reported, we will believe you have lied to us and you will receive the maximum sentence."

Maximum sentence—for killing a human, what was it again?

Her brow furrowed in confusion.

"Two centuries of imprisonment, Yamamoto-san. Per human."

_Ah. Well, could be worse. A sentence measured in centuries was nothing next to Aizen's sentence._

"You have the right to refuse, although I would not recommend it," the speaker said with dark amusement, and she shook her head.

"I'll let him—this won't, well it will probably hurt, but not, you know, bad?" she asked, looking at the unknown shinigami.

He shook his head. She could see his eyes shining through the hooded mask, but that was it. He was completely unidentifiable.

"Nothing permanent. You might not feel well for a few hours, though. Depending on how deep the memory is, you may be rendered unconscious."

She nodded.

Did forty years, give or take, count as deep for a shinigami?

He stepped toward her, the needle-like zanpakutou coming to rest at her temple. Zero-taichou stepped in front of her, his hands on her shoulders, holding her in the chair, and she only had a moment to panic before she felt it pierce the skin. Then, there was a sharp, quick pain in her head and a flash of blurring lights in front of her eyes.

She couldn't say how long they sat there, the man relaying information as he worked. Everything was fuzzy in her mind—it really felt like someone had thrown her brain into a blender and put it back into her skull right after. Her hearing, vision, even the shishi was different inside her head. Things weren't working like they usually did.

Time was relative. She could have been there minutes or hours, she wasn't sure.

Eventually the man pulled back, and she felt the needle leaving her head, although she was pretty sure it was never actually _inside_ her head. It was all awkward and jumbled.

She sat there, shaking her head to try and clear the fog. She barely heard the speaker's last words.

"That should be all. We'll recommence tomorrow morning with our decision."

She felt Zero-taichou helping her up, but her legs were jelly and he had to literally support her until the two Zero members that were her escorts came over, each grabbing an arm. They took all her weight, gently pulling her up and out of the room.

Almost as soon as the huge double doors shut behind them, she heard Akane's voice and saw a flash of vibrant red hair, but she couldn't speak. She blinked, trying to focus her vision. Nothing was working right.

"What the hell did they do to her?" she heard Akane exclaim, and she could barely hear Zero-taichou, behind her now, fire off an answer. It was odd, hearing a voice where there was no person. But was there no person because she couldn't see him or because of a cloak?

_Ow_. Thinking _hurt_.

"Forcibly viewed her memories."

"What? They can do that?"

"They can do things we can't dream of, I'm sure." That was taichou, she thought, but she couldn't be sure. Everything was jumbled. She felt drunk.

"Suck'd—ow." It was the most she could get out at the moment. Although—she looked up at the Zero member on her left, who was a very nicely-scented male just a little older than herself—she was pretty sure she might be able to manage a pick-up line. Maybe. Possibly.

"_Pretty_," she purred, and the man barely smothered a grin.

She heard her taichou laugh as Zero-taichou scoffed at her comment. The two supporting her just hoisted her further up, carrying her back to the estate while ignoring her delirious rambling.

* * *

"That was so not like it was in the Matrix," she moaned, rubbing her head and brushing her hair back as she sat up.

Akane jumped in the chair at the desk and scurried across the room, immediately helping her sit up. She leaned against the pillows and headboard, her head falling back. She had a headache the size of China. The girl thrust a glass of water towards her and she gulped it down gratefully.

"Not feel well a few hours my ass," she growled.

"Yeah, you were pretty much out after we got you changed."

"We?" she asked, fearing the answer. "Who's we?"

"Hikaru and I changed you, don't worry. Although it wouldn't have mattered much—you just about started stripping the moment you entered the house. Poor Zero guy couldn't stop grinning…sensei?"

She burrowed further under the covers that she had pulled up and over her head.

"I'll come out sometime next year, okay?"

"Oh, don't be a drama queen," the girl laughed, "everyone could tell you were totally out of it, sensei. Don't worry about it."

"Not helping, Akane." She grumbled underneath the blanket. "I've been doing nothing but spreading my humiliation since all this started. I'm sick of it."

"Oh come on. Like you haven't made a fool of yourself before? I've seen you much worse, you know." The girl grinned, her eyes lighting up. "Like that time we tried to go up against Kenta and Isamu in rugby and you hyper extended your knee—the drugs had you drooling and you offered to have the doctor's babies—"

"Enough," she warned, her head barely peeking out of the security of the duvet.

She heard the door creak open, then, and she pulled the duvet down just enough that she could see her uncle and Hikaru come in, one looking somewhat stern while the other was carrying dinner.

Food sounded somewhat good, actually.

Hikaru had everything set up quickly, then the older woman left, dragging Akane behind her. Obviously, this was going to be a private conversation. She could remember testifying that morning, and she could remember someone—things were still a bit blurry about the last part of her day—saying that they would have their decision in the morning.

No doubt he wanted to talk about her time in front of Central—not even he had been allowed in the chamber other than to give his own short briefing to the members of the committee.

She took a sip of the hot tea on the tray and a quick bite of the rice before looking directly at her uncle.

He opened his eyes and grinned at her under his mustache.

"What?" she asked testily.

"Propositioning members of Zero now?"

She felt the blood rush to her face and just knew she was blushing. Her cheeks had to be beet red.

"In my defense, I don't remember much of what happened. That was some trick they pulled."

"The members of Central are still in chamber at present. Whatever today revealed, it has given them much to think about. The benefits might outweigh your embarrassment. Do you remember what was said?"

"No," she murmured. "Everything was blurry, even sound. It was the most disconcerting experience I've ever been through. Good idea, in theory, but the practice sucks."

He nodded, and she continued to eat as he stared off into the distance. Something was on his mind—he had something he wanted to say to her but he wasn't sure how to word it. Perhaps he feared ruining the tenuous relationship they had been able to mend, although she doubted it. Most likely he was just uncomfortable about the subject.

"Even if you are found innocent, there will most likely be a choice to make," he said gruffly, his eyes meeting hers.

"Jail or return, right? I had that much figured out, thanks," she said, just a hint of sarcasm evident.

"I assume you have already made your decision, then." She nodded. "There will be a period of time where you will be in limbo—I am not sure where you will be placed. There will most likely be testing, examinations…"

"I know," she murmured. And she did. But anything was better than jail.

"If you had hoped to return to your life in the human world—"

"I just don't want to be in jail, Gen-oji-san. I can deal with anything else happily."

He nodded absently.

She knew what he really wanted. He wanted her to come out and say that she _wanted_ to be here in Seireitei, that she had wanted it all along. But she didn't rightfully feel she could give him that; she wasn't sure what she would actually choose if the choice was presented. Almost a century of living like a human could endure you to the real world. While she missed so much of her former life, it still sometimes felt like she was trying to climb into someone else's skin.

She pushed the tray off of her lap and set it to the side; she had eaten all she could at the moment. The heavy discussion was affecting her appetite, which hadn't really been all that big to begin with. Too much going on in such a short amount of time.

"What else?"

He faked a cough and fingered his long beard.

"I know there's something else—just say it."

"I do not wish to be involved in this," he muttered, and she fought not to grin at the unusual discomfort he was showing. "Juushirou wishes to speak with you—"

"No."

"Minako, he cannot have said anything worse than I have—"

"_No_," she said forcefully.

"You children try my patience," he muttered, and she sent him a smirk. It was their job—someone had to give him as much trouble as he gave everyone else.

"I don't want to talk to him. I don't even want to _see_ him," she said emphatically.

"You were raised to be gracious when someone comes to apologize, Minako—stop acting like a spoiled child." She frowned, her arms coming up to cross in front of her chest. "You should know he is very persistent—he will not stop until he has spoken to you."

"Maybe I'll choose jail, then," she muttered, and he scoffed.

"Spoiled."

"I thought you didn't want to get involved," she said petulantly.

"I have no choice; whatever the two of you are fighting over has disrupted my life now. The boy is as nervous as a skittish rabbit around me. Tonight is the first he has spoken to me since you were released from the hospital."

"Imagine how much peaceful solitude you'll get from this arrangement! He won't talk to you, I'll be out of your hair somewhere...if you can get someone to knock off taichou, you might be able to get some peace and quiet for once in your unbelievably long life."

"_Minako_—"

"I refuse." She shook her head, her ponytail flying about her shoulders. "Not just no—_hell_ no."

"You moped about this house as if your favorite pet had died for days, and now—so suddenly—you are angry? You make no sense, gaki."

She scrunched her nose up at him and turned to face the other direction.

She heard him sigh as he got up from her desk chair, his eyes once again closed as he moved to the door. She barely heard him muttering under his breath as he shut the door and left her in peace, but his last word made her sink that much further into the covers, face set into a scowl and her arms wrapped tightly around her.

"I'm not spoiled, I'm _pissed_," she hissed into the silence of the room.

* * *

A/N: R & R guys!


	37. Chapter 37

A/N: Sorry so late! I'm actually updating from Salt Lake City, where it's snowing and I'm living out of a hotel while my mother finds herself a place to live. She was transferred and I came with her (I love to travel). So everything is very interesting right now and I'm enjoying it, but it's a ton of stuff to deal with right now.

There is also something very important here that I'll need feedback on—from this point, the story splits. I had two endings in my head, one of which I've decided to make the official ending and another that has become the alternate ending. I'll be posting the ending I've chosen, with a small synopsis of the other ending and the final scene of that ending. I'll post it after the story is done, probably with the epilogue.

The song is actually Vienna Teng's "Lullaby for a Stormy Night." She's an incredibly talented musician, for those of you who have never heard of her. I highly recommend everything she's done.

Enjoy!

* * *

"The Noble Sort"

* * *

_Wednesday Morning_

She would admit it now, she was scared.

Oji-san had been allowed in with her—a first—but only because they would be reading off their final verdict and he was not only the sou-taichou, he was her closest family member. The verdict would affect him as much as it would her.

The members of Central were convened and ready in front of them, but the speaker had not moved to read off the verdict. Instead he was simply staring at them, a puzzled look on his face.

Finally, though, he cleared his throat and stared down at her. His eyes locked with hers.

"We have reached our decision. I would request your silence until I have finished, or at least until I ask for your reply—this is the first case the newly-reconvened Central has tried other than that of Aizen Sousuke; the decision will reflect the new policies we have implemented. This will be confusing."

She nodded, as did the sou-taichou.

"Very well." The speaker adjusted his glasses and stared down at the sheet of paper in front of him. "On the count of treason against Seireitei through the disruption of the soul balance, we have found you to be innocent. The evidence proves that you continued to preserve the balance while in exile, which has been taken into consideration."

She nodded. That had been expected.

"On the three counts of willful murder of serving shinigami—specifically, serving shinigami that were of taichou class—we have found you to be guilty." She felt her mouth open and close in shock. "However, as the three victims were not only criminals but ordered to be executed by the sou-taichou, an order which Zero-taichou has stated he will second, the official statement will read that you have been found guilty of carrying out three assassinations in the service of the Gōtei and Seireitei."

She just stared at him; he had almost given her a heart attack with that one.

"Do you understand the difference, Yamamoto-san?"

"Not really," she said dryly.

"Officially, you will be found guilty. But it will be no more than a reprimand in your file for overseeing an official order while not a serving shinigami. There will be no imprisonment."

She nodded. That she understood.

"On the count of staying in the human world beyond an allotted time for a mission—almost a century too long—we also find you guilty." He shot her a look over his glasses. "Precedent has been set in this matter; I believe that is what the humans call it, yes?"

"Yes, sir."

"Indeed. As you have been in the service of Seireitei during your exile, there will be no sentencing for this crime. It will be recorded in your file as an official reprimand, but the case of Urahara Kisuke, 499-2, his second trial, has set a standard for such crimes."

"Not that they were punished severely before," she heard her uncle mutter. Apparently a sore point with him.

"Finally," the speaker said, and she sat up straighter—this was the sticking point, "on the seven counts of murder in the human world, the victims being humans without reiatsu capabilities, we also find you guilty."

She felt the breath whoosh out of her. Even her uncle was tense next to her, his hand clenched on his cane.

It had all been for nothing then. She had been right. They would use this to hang her and have their scapegoat for the whole ordeal; she would go down for Matsu's crimes.

"We deliberated long to come to a proper sentence for this crime. To be honest, we were not sure if sentencing was appropriate." He shuffled a few papers in front of him, and the noise was loud in the silence of the chamber. "There has only been one previous case of a shinigami killing a human in self-defense."

She hadn't known there had even been one.

"The shinigami in this case was sentenced to three decades imprisonment—a decade for each victim. It was, then, a lax punishment for one of our most severe crimes. Yet," he said, glancing at a very well-dressed man a few seats away from him, "I have also been informed that we might set an even worse precedent if we did not take your situation into careful consideration."

Her eyes flicked around the room, taking in the faces of the men and women staring back at her.

"If we sentence you to imprisonment, the newly formed Central will be setting the precedent that those who defend their lives will be punished. It is a precedent we have deliberated over—shinigami have always been allowed to protect themselves, even at the cost of another's life. The only time this has been forbidden was in the case of humans."

"I still don't understand," she muttered.

"You would have to be the first we tried for this," the speaker said, exasperated. "We have decided that imprisonment for actions taken to defend your life is too harsh. Your sentence will be service instead."

"Service?"

"For the three reprimands—for assassination—you will serve fifteen years." She felt her heart drop to her feet. Fifteen years in service for _reprimands_? The new Central was supposedly more lenient than before—this was definitely not lenient.

And what the hell was "service?"

"For the seven counts of human murder, in self-defense, you will also receive official reprimand. These seven counts will add seventy years of service to your sentence."

Okay. Eighty-five years of service. But what the _fuck_ was _service_?

"You should be overjoyed, Yamamoto-san," the speaker said dryly, and she stared at him in confusion.

"I—what do you mean, service? I get that you've obviously modeled this on community service—nice way to implement the human legal system, by the way—but I have no clue what you want me to do!"

"You will report to the First Division for retesting and subsequent assignment by the end of next week. You have eighty-five years to serve in the service of Seireitei before you can officially make any decision regarding your shinigami status personally."

_Oh._

_That is all you have to say, onna? _

"Your pay will be reduced to one half of your standard at whatever rank you may achieve throughout that time. Your frozen wages will be returned to Seireitei as fines for your crimes, with a designated amount going directly to the accounts of Zero. Other than the fines and the compulsory service, though, you are free."

_Wow._

"Yamamoto-san?"

"I think she's in shock," she heard oji-san mutter. And he was right.

"Definitely a change—this is the first time she hasn't had a sarcastic remark to make," the speaker said, but she could hear the amusement in his voice.

She didn't care.

It was finally over.

* * *

Minako stared at the ivory keys in front of her. She hadn't sat at this piano since—it had been entirely too long.

The party was done, now. It had been more an informal dinner, carried out at the estate in celebration of her sentencing. It still sounded weird to her; she was guilty of three out of four crimes but her only punishment was reduced wages and a return to Seireitei.

It didn't bother her one bit though.

Akane's had been the same, only she would be serving fifteen years and, to the girl's delight, oji-san had already decided to put her in the Second Division. Her hatred of shinigami had faded quickly in light of secret corps. training. Minako was happy for her; the girl truly deserved it. And she would be safe from her family's influence there—they wouldn't be able to get to her if she only lived in the barracks.

Although they owed the Katsumoto family—the noble in Central that had helped them get service instead of imprisonment had been one of her family members. She would have to come up with something to repay them while keeping Akane out of their reach; if they thought she wouldn't protect her now that they were both reinstated, they had another thing coming.

But they had gone through everything during dinner, retelling the story for those present, and they finally had everything all figured out. Other than the fact that she had to be tested and a place found for her, it had all worked out. Everyone had been thrilled.

Now everyone was gone, the excitement over, and she felt like playing.

Except, she had no sheet music. Her reiatsu was free again but she couldn't call up a gate or butterfly for travel to the human world on her own under any circumstance for at least a year. She was stuck playing whatever she had memorized and nothing was coming to her.

She let her fingers play part of a Bach aria she had memorized years ago, but her heart wasn't in it tonight. Bach wasn't what she wanted.

"Sensei?"

"You don't have to call me that anymore, Akane," she said lightly, her fingers still ghosting over the keys.

"What are you doing back here?"

"Trying to play, although I have no music to play by." She sent the girl a silly, self-deprecating grin. She ended the little piece she had been playing jarringly, the notes harsh.

"Play my song, then," Akane murmured as she slid down the wall to the floor.

"It's not raining."

"After what we just went through, I think we could both use it. Maybe we could finally get a good night's sleep for once."

Minako smiled.

She let her fingers fly across the keys, the sounds of the piano soft and tinkling.

"When was the last time we sat like this? No plans, no worrying, just relaxing with a piano?"

"At least a year ago—the typhoon, maybe," Akane said, pulling her knees up to her chest. "Although that thing you call a piano at home isn't nearly as nice as this."

"_The rain pounds harsh against the glass like an unwanted stranger, there is no danger, I am here tonight."_ She shut her eyes, letting her memory take over; her body knew how to play the song, her mind knew the words and the pitch of the notes. "_Thunder explodes and lightning flash illuminates your tear-stained face, and I am here tonight."_

She continued to play, her eyes closed even though she could feel Akane staring at her. The song was one she wrote decades earlier, not even a month after she first met the girl. Then Akane had been a young teen, still young enough to be scared by what she faced in the human world.

Not that age had much to do with that; Minako could remember the feeling herself and she had been much older.

Singing had been one of the few things that calmed the skittish girl down. So Minako sang; it had worked for the small amount of time the girl had lived with her when she first came to the human world.

As always, at the end of the song, Akane joined her. Her voice was higher, softer, not really fitting for the song, but she had always joined in at the end.

"_And I hope that you know that nature is so, the same rain that draws you near me falls on rivers and land, on forests and sand, makes the beautiful world that you'll see in the morning_." She looked at the girl, whose eyes were starting to slip closed.

The music faded softly, but neither woman moved.

"I couldn't get the Green Island Serenade, too, could I?" Akane asked hopefully, and Minako laughed softly.

"I think we've had enough for tonight. People will think I've gone soft."

Akane pushed herself off the floor as she shut the lid of the piano—Hikaru would kill her if she forgot and dust got between the ivory keys. The piano was not only antique, it was literally priceless. It had been brought from the real world sometime in the early 1800's. It was the first instrument she had learned on—one of the two her mother and uncle had insisted on. Shamisen and piano.

"You are soft, sensei. But we like you that way," Akane said, and then she squealed as Minako dashed down the hall after her.

* * *

"You were conspicuously absent from the party tonight, Ukitake," Shunsui said leaning over the small table in his quarters.

"I would not have been welcome, although I am very pleased her sentence was light." He shrugged his shoulders. "Besides, I spent much of the day in the Fourth Division. I'm fine, I'm fine," he said waving away the concern that crossed his friend's face. "Just a bad coughing spell."

Both men leaned backwards as Nanao approached, three steaming cups of tea on the tray in her hands. She set each out at their respective spots before sinking down onto her own cushion. She had been at the party, and she was tired. But like the two men with her, she was happy her friend would not be going to jail.

"Still haven't apologized then?"

"She won't even talk to me! I can't apologize when I can't get her in the same room."

"You should do so soon, Ukitake-taichou," Nanao said, holding her steaming cup in front of her face. "The longer you wait, the longer she will have to build up her anger. Or worse."

"It can get _worse_?"

"She could decide to parade another man in front of you," Shunsui teased halfheartedly. "Or—or really find another man. That is why you should hurry up, Juu. Patience isn't always a virtue."

"I've tried," the man said exasperatedly. "She won't even see me. Genryuusai-sensei even asked her to see me…she continues to say no."

Nanao nodded thoughtfully, her brow furrowed.

"Was there any indication of where she'll be serving?" Juushirou asked, fingering his teacup.

"No," Shunsui said, his brown eyes shining with sympathy. "She will report in the next few days and go through some testing, most likely so they know what level she's at. Although we all know the answer to that."

"And we have two open taichou positions," Nanao murmured.

"We do. And no fuku-taichou that wish to advance—unusual!" he said, smiling at his own fuku-taichou. Nanao would not advance if it was offered, although he knew it had not been. She was not yet proficient enough with her zanpakutou for her own division. Another century, though, and she would be a formidable opponent with both her kidō and her weapon, one worthy of her own team. Not that he would let her leave the Eighth.

He hoped she wouldn't _want_ to leave.

"And someone has an empty fuku-taichou position," Shunsui said slyly, glancing at his friend.

"She wouldn't," the pale taichou muttered, "she'd go to jail first."

"Well, either way, she'll be in Seireitei. It will make begging for mercy that much easier on your knees, old friend."

"I hate you sometimes," Juushirou muttered into his teacup.

"Yare, I'm just returning the favor. How many times have you made fun of me for my lady-troubles?" Shunsui laughed. "At least you still have your bonsai, yes?"

The pale man shot him a halfhearted glare.

Nanao covered her mouth with her hand, suppressing a cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh to the taichou of the Thirteenth.

"I have to do something. This is not how I pictured spending my nights, not that I don't enjoy spending time with you two." He furrowed his brows, his eyes focused on his tea. "And plants only keep you occupied so long."

"Perhaps you should do the same thing that got you in trouble—sneak in during the night and try to talk to her when she least expects it," Shunsui suggested, his eyebrows waggling. "Or not talk at all."

"Because that doesn't _scream_ stalker, Shunsui," Nanao snorted out.

"It's also not the hospital—sensei might burn me to a crisp before I made it to her room. I cannot imagine trying to explain such injuries to Unohana-san."

They all envisioned trying to sneak into the Yamamoto estate and cringed at the mental images.

"Ukitake-taichou, you must simply catch her unaware and make her talk to you. Preferably somewhere private and," the petite woman shot a look at her lover, "not _disturbing_. No sneaking into her bed. As a matter of fact, don't take any advice _he_ gives you. It will only get you more into trouble."

"But Nanao-chan—"

"He's only angered her _once_—you've spent a month's worth of nights on your couch."

"Let's not exaggerate, lovely—"

"I'm sure I'm not. I think I'm underestimating the number of times I've kicked you out of bed, actually. And you deserved it every time."

"I've always made it up to you, my lovely Nanao-chan."

"Only because I'm extremely forgiving," she said, her violet eyes shining with frustration and exasperation, but also with love.

The tall, dark man looked at her pitifully while his friend beamed at the couple in front of him. They were what he wanted—someone to come home to, to have inane arguments with, to just be with when things got tough. And now that he was finally well enough to have such a long-term relationship, thank the Kami for Unohana-san's resourceful healing and his less frequent attacks, he had screwed it all up.

Well, it wasn't the first time he'd made a mistake. He'd fix it.

* * *

_The Next Morning_

"Feel strange?" she asked, leaning against the wall near the door.

Her young student—but she couldn't really call her that now—was standing in the middle of the guest room, dressed in black. It was the first time either of them had been seen in the traditional shinigami shihakusho since their defection.

And the girl didn't look nearly as confident in the black ensemble.

"I don't think I can explain it, sensei."

"I can imagine—I'll be in the same position soon." She stepped to the side, allowing the younger woman to pass before following her down the hallway to one of the many doors that let them into the garden. "You'll do fine—stop worrying."

"Ha! And if she throws me out right after I screw something up? I don't do well under this kind of pressure."

Minako grabbed the girl's arm, turning her around quickly, before grabbing her shoulders.

"You know better. You go in there with your chin high and let them see what you've learned. You survived _three years_ of training with me—that's the equivalent of training under the sou-taichou for a semester in the academy. Remember that." She let the girl go but mussed her hair as she continued to the gate. "C'mon. I'll walk you out. I was going to go see about getting an escort to the human realm sometime this week anyway."

"What for?" Akane asked as she jogged up, smiling and looking much more confident for her afternoon at the Second Division.

"I have a few things to take care of, close the house, bank accounts, that sort of thing. Don't you want your clothes and computer? I know I want my things."

"Where will you put them, though? You won't be assigned until after testing."

"Oji-san's, probably. I'll move them later. I'm not bringing everything, though, idiot. I couldn't possibly."

"Anyone given you any hints as to where they'll stick you?"

"Taichou was making noise about the Ninth," she said, but then she shrugged. "Not worrying about it. It does me no good to guess right now—I'll be put where I'm put, as far as I'm concerned. Truthfully, I'd probably take a position in the Fourth as long as it meant staying out of jail."

"As long as it isn't the _Thirteenth_—"

"I'll turn traitor first. _Again_," she said darkly.

"I doubt they'll put you there, sensei. I was just making a little observation."

"Well, don't." She stopped at the gates, turning to look at the girl. "Brick wall was eyeing you the other day at the trial—has he made any problems for you?"

"Nah."

"Tell me if he does. I've been led to believe he can kick my ass, but I'll damage him enough to get him to leave you alone if he does anything. I'll try, anyway."

"Sensei," the girl said, sounding much like an exasperated teenager. Minako grinned.

"What?" she asked innocently.

The girl shook her head.

She reminded Minako much of herself when she was a teen. Sometimes it was like looking in a mirror, seeing straight into the past.

"Well, get going. I'll organize an escort and we'll head to the house tonight to get whatever we need, okay?"

"Gotcha!" And with that the redhead was gone, using shunpo to cross the buildings laid out between the Yamamoto estate and the Second Division.

Minako smiled wistfully in the same direction—it was officially the end of an era. The girl would soon move into the barracks and have her own life. And there was no telling where she would be put. They would meet—trying to get Akane off of her was usually like trying to remove a famine-starved leech—but she wouldn't be a daily part of her life anymore.

_Well, shishi, shall we see what trouble we can get into at the First?_

The black dog smirked in her mind.

_I'm always up for trouble. _

She quickly jumped to the building closest to the street, and then she was flying across Seireitei herself, heading for the very large white tower-like building at the middle of the complex. It was good to have her reiatsu back; walking everywhere was tiring.

_Hmm. Maybe we can draw oji-san out of his office._

_I doubt it. _

_We could still try. It's been ages since we had a spar with someone at that level._

_Oh? I seem to remember a small war about three years ago—_

_Different, mutt._

It was going to be hard to get used to being back in the spirit realm after decades in the human world, where no one really took notice of just another stranger. But it would come to her as the time passed; maybe this was what she needed now. She had once thrived on the attention, after all.

She landed not outside the First Division's gates but directly in the courtyard, startling some of the clerks running from building to building. She pivoted, turning to the long staircase that would lead up to her uncle's office.

Making a splash at the First Division was just the way to get back into the swing of things.


	38. Chapter 38

A/N: Enjoy! R & R!

* * *

"The Noble Sort"

* * *

_One Week Later_

"We've decided where you'll be serving, Minako."

She looked up at her uncle as he entered the dining room, her magazine article completely forgotten. She had done her testing five days earlier, but she hadn't realized they would have their decision made so soon. She was sure she had at least another week to laze about the house and enjoy a vacation complete with no one trying to kill her.

Other than the isolation, it had been kind of nice.

She watched as he took his normal spot at the head of the table—the only other place setting at the moment. Akane had moved out at the beginning of the week. Her room in the barracks was small and plain, but between the two of them there had been enough furniture and paintings to liven the room up and make it feel more like home.

The girl had shined when presented with her first original painting, the deep reds and browns matching her furniture perfectly.

But the past three days had been just her and oji-san. It was comfortable, although somewhat awkward as they got used to living together without the buffer of the young girl.

"Do I even want to know, Gen-oji-san?" she asked as Hikaru, always attentive to the sou-taichou, entered right after him bearing their dinner on a huge platter.

They both nodded their heads at the maid, Minako even going so far as to give her a quick smile of thanks. She didn't even look at the plate of food that had been set in front of her, however; all her attention was on her uncle.

"Well?"

He chewed slowly, apparently enjoying his meal more than he had ever enjoyed okonomiyaki. He had never had a liking for it before. Hikaru only served it because it was one of Minako's favorites.

"They are putting more trust in you than I think is prudent."

There was a disturbing gleam in his opened eyes.

"Thanks, oji-san," she said dryly, finally taking a bite of her own food.

He winked at her before fidgeting and settling in his chair like an immovable stone.

"I should not have to say this, but I will: if you so much as make one wrong move in the next century, I'll kill you myself. Behave yourself for a time."

"As long as it isn't the Thirteenth, I don't care. I'll be a janitor if I have to."

He chuckled dryly and his eyes opened again. His brown eyes were dancing with a playfulness he rarely showed to the outside world, and she briefly wondered what had caught his interest.

"I saw the note taped to my entrance, niece."

She blushed, sinking down into her seat.

"You are being unduly harsh with the boy."

"It's not my fault!" she cried out. "He won't _stop_! And Akane isn't here anymore to fend him off with her glares."

"If my student truly wishes to make amends a mere slip of paper with, I will admit some very inventive threats, will not stop him." He flicked his chopsticks at her, and she wiped her face quickly with a look of horror. Those had been in his mouth—and she swore she felt something fly off, _ew_.

"I—let's just not go there—please, _please_, leave it alone," she begged, then she cleared her throat and glance quickly around the room. New topic needed, _pronto_. "You were supposed to be telling me where I was going to be serving out my life of indentured slavery, not teasing me about an overzealous ex."

"So I was," he murmured, but she could hear the amusement in his voice.

"Well?"

"There are two choices." She shot him a look. "Calm yourself—they are placing a great deal of trust in you with this. Truthfully," he said, his shoulders moving the tiniest bit in an imitation of a shrug, "they do not wish to waste your potential. A motive I can understand, although I will be keeping my eyes on you."

_As if I ever made a move without you knowing other than leaving._

"Hisagi Shuuhei will be here around eight. I believe you would like to meet your subordinate fuku-taichou before you take the position, although there will not be any formal presentation for you. Everyone already knows you," he said dryly.

_T—taichou? What in the seven hells are they thinking?_

"You can't be serious?" she shrieked, her chopsticks flying to the ground as she gestured wildly with her arms.

"He has been fuku-taichou for almost three decades. He is the best person to introduce you to the workings of the division. Since you will report for your first day tomorrow, it would also be best if he at least recognized his new taichou."

"_Are you fucking insane?_"

"Watch it," he said warningly.

"If he's been fuku-taichou so long, why isn't he taichou and—and—I should be taking his place, not be his boss!" She slammed her hand down on the table. "Unbelievable."

"He has not yet achieved bankai, although I do believe he will become a taichou eventually. For the present, though—"

"Bankai isn't a requirement! If it suddenly became a requirement, I didn't get the fucking memo." She ran a hand through her hair, mussing the fringe at the front and flicking the loose strands back behind her shoulders. "Oji-san, you can't put a defect in control of a division—"

"I just did," he said, and she ignored the twinkle in his eyes. He was obviously proud of himself, no matter what he had said earlier about not trusting her.

"But I don't have any training for this—"

"You managed the Eighth for decades, I believe. We all know Shunsui is not there to work."

"But—I—_ridiculous_—"

"Spit your words out, girl," he said gruffly, leaning back and twirling his mustache with his remaining hand. "The job is yours. There are five haori proclaiming you the new taichou being hung in your closet as we speak."

"Five?" she asked, her expression showing her disbelief. "Why so many?"

"I know you," he muttered before he pushed his okonomiyaki and rice forward to signal that he was done with his meal. She _knew_ he hated it—he must have had it made for the "good news" he had to give her.

"Un-_freakin_-believable." She looked at him. "You said there was another choice."

"Imprisonment."

"Oh," she muttered sullenly.

"You should be grateful, child. You have been given the position you longed for. The Ninth is a perfect fit for you—you have always been artistically inclined. I believe you will do much better there than you would have in the Fifth—although I do believe I will have no say in the boy that gets that position."

"I feel no pity for you now," she said sarcastically, finally pushing away her plate as well. This had killed her appetite. "Do I even want to know how many strings someone had to pull—"

"I wouldn't even attempt to count them, niece."

* * *

They moved to the living room—she had point blank refused to call it by its more formal title since she had moved back into the house. Most of the next hour was spent with her uncle doing paperwork and her pretending to read a book after flipping through some files, although her mind was definitely on other things.

_A taichou._

After all she had done they were willing to give her that. It was amazing, really. She would have been happy with a position higher than toilet scraper, to be honest. But neither she nor Akane seemed to be getting an actual punishment besides not being allowed to go back to the human realm permanently. It was lenient, and it made her revise her opinion of the newly-formed Central.

Perhaps they _were_ progressing.

But a full division—this would be _work_. If she remembered right the Ninth handled paperwork, guard duty, and print communications. Her uncle was right, it was a good fit; she was artistic and she had a very useless arts degree in the human realm. It had been the only thing interesting to her other than psychology, which she couldn't really see a need for and couldn't stomach—she couldn't handle her own problems, much less help others with theirs.

Her musing was interrupted by Hikaru's arrival. The older woman was ushering in a young man with spiky black hair—tattoos! Oh, this was definitely a Kensei worshipper. He even carried himself like the former taichou of the division.

It wouldn't do to laugh at him in their first meeting; she shoved the giggles down.

"Genryuusai-dono, Minako-dono…Hisagi-san," the older woman said as she led the younger man to the couch across from theirs while shooting Minako a look. The maid had caught the grin threatening to escape, apparently.

Hikaru wouldn't care what she was thinking, only that she wasn't treating their guest appropriately. Minako smothered the grin.

"Hisagi-fuku-taichou," her uncle greeted, not even opening his eyes. He put his paperwork aside.

But the poor man in front of them looked almost startled. She imagined it couldn't be easy for those unused to seeing the sou-taichou outside of his office to see that he could be human, take off his haori, and sit back and relax in the evenings.

"Hisagi-san, don't look so scared," she said. She couldn't resist teasing him. Her uncle shot her a look which she returned before waving her hand at the door. "Why don't you go finish that up in the study? Let me talk to him for a bit, Gen-oji-san."

She heard her uncle huff under his breath but he actually did as she asked, gathering up his stacks of papers and moving towards the study across the hall. Although she was sure she heard him mutter something about her as he shut the door, finally leaving her to really get to know the guy in front of her. It would be too much to try to have this conversation with him hovering.

Change that—kid in front of her. He was still young. Nanao's age maybe, not much older at all. God, when had she gotten old?

"Yamamoto—"

"Nope!" she said as she cut him off, reaching for the teapot and refreshing her own cup before making him one as well. "Minako. I don't do last names. If you absolutely _must_ use a last name, perhaps Fujiwara. My mother's name—two Yamamoto-taichou might get confusing."

"But the squad is honored to receive someone from the Yamamoto family as a taichou," he said, and she could tell he was uncomfortable.

"Well, then just use my first name when we aren't in formal situations."

"But it isn't—"

"If you say proper, I'll hit you," she warned, then she handed him his cup of tea. "Before, it wasn't such a big deal. Now, though, it might become an issue if me and oji-san are in the same room. Anyway," she said, waving her hand, "we can solve this later. I have a question for you."

He shot her an inquisitive look.

"Why aren't you the one getting ready to put on that haori tomorrow?"

"I didn't—I'm not ready to have that position," he said, and while he seemed to be sincere about it, she could tell he was hiding something.

"Is this about not having achieved bankai? Because I'm sure they've told you I can only use mine when there's no other choice. Bankai isn't always the deciding factor."

"No," he said haltingly. "I would like to have it, but—no. I've run the division for years. It's a lot of work and I'm looking forward to someone else taking control," he said in a rush, and she gave him a smile. That she understood. He was too young to be shouldering all of it yet.

"Well, I'll just say this up front then—I was a little worried about stepping on toes." He opened his mouth, most likely about to reassure her, but she held her hand up. "I'm also a little worried about taking on a division. My history isn't—well, I'm not sure how I'll be received."

"The squad is looking forward to finally having a leader. Everyone knows about what's happened, but it doesn't matter. You're a Yamamoto. They're thrilled."

She gave a little laugh as she leaned back against the couch.

"Of course," she said dryly.

She looked at him. He was strong, she could tell. And he was most likely loyal—the file oji-san had let her look through right after dinner said he had killed Tousen only after realizing he couldn't get him to return voluntarily. He was probably a good guy.

Good-looking, too. That never hurt.

"I know," she started, her voice soft, "it's hard to trust someone right off the bat. But we'll have to be able to trust each other—you know the division in a way I won't for some time and I need someone willing to back me. Can you do that?"

His eyebrows rose.

"I'm serious. I'm hard to deal with—temperamental, blunt, sarcastic—but I'm used to being able to trust the person at my back. If you can't offer that—"

"That's fine," he said in a rush, and she heard a big breath whoosh out of him. "That's good, actually."

"Oh?"

He didn't volunteer anything else, just sat there with a cup of tea in his hands on her uncle's very expensive couch looking decidedly out of place. He wasn't the quiet type, though. She got the feeling he just didn't know her yet—she wasn't intimidating, but he couldn't be comfortable right now.

_Shishi?_

_He's good. No lying, although he'll hedge around the truth._

_Expected. Do you think we can trust him?_

_I think you can, in time. He's injured, onna. Betrayal hits this one deep._

She nodded mentally.

"Well then. I'll be taking over tomorrow, as you know. Why don't you tell me about yourself? Perhaps you have some questions for me?"

* * *

_The Next Day_

Minako was now the one that felt out of place.

The squad had greeted her energetically that morning, all lined up and spouting off names she wouldn't be able to remember for weeks yet and giving her a guided tour of the division. They had all presented her with the best version of things, she was sure—no place was that idyllic to work for.

But Shuuhei—she had told him the night before that last names weren't gonna work although he was still having problems with it—had the division running as smoothly as possible. So by the time she was shown into her office midmorning, she was sure there was actually little for her to do at the moment. There was paperwork, as always, but nothing just amazingly pressing.

So other than the odd division member popping by to get a look at their new taichou, everything was smooth. Which was weird.

And the white haori made her feel weird. She liked black.

She wasn't even unpacking on her own; Hikaru had some of her uncle's clerks bring over the boxes she had spent last week labeling and was setting up her rooms. She would have just the right amount of her things in the barracks but still be comfortable when she went to the estate on Sundays. And, according to her uncle, Wednesdays for dinner.

If he had his way, she would end up having dinner with him all the time. She thought he was already getting lonely—she hadn't even been gone a day yet.

Then, she could hear someone in the hallway, and a knock on her door followed soon after.

The wooden door opened slowly without her permission, and she almost felt the need to yell at whoever it was, but then—_red hair._

Akane.

Minako smiled as she sat up a little straighter in her chair.

"Dork! They finally let you out of there, huh?"

"Oh, shut it, sensei. I'm free to come and go as I please." The redhead scanned the office, completely immune to the stares of the shinigami in the outer offices. "Imagine, you a taichou. Do these poor guys know what they're getting into?"

"They haven't had a morning training session with me yet, no," Minako admitted, still beaming like an idiot.

The girl flopped down into a chair and pulled a stick of dango out of a white paper bag before tossing the bag across the desk. She munched happily, legs swinging, as Minako tried to pull the spongy outside off to get to the inside of the treat.

"Where's the baka-shishi?"

_Tell her not to call me that._

"I figured it would be best to let them get used to me in small doses. No yelling or very large animals in the office until the second week," she said sarcastically, but the big black dog appeared soon after. He looked up at his master with big yellow eyes and she threw the spongy part of her dango to him, rolling her own eyes.

"Might as well just get them immune as quick as possible. Don't shock them for weeks, just for a day."

"Yeah?"

"Worked for me," the girl mumbled around a mouth full of food. Minako had to fight the Hikaru-like urge to tell her it was impolite. She wasn't Akane's mother, after all. She wasn't even her sensei anymore.

She shook herself mentally.

Minako was about to give a sarcastic reply but then Shuuhei appeared in the doorway, once again looking uncomfortable. She couldn't wait for the day he finally got used to her.

"Yes?"

"Yama—" She sent him a dark look and he stopped, changing his words. "Taichou, you requested the training and duty schedules."

She took the stack of papers from him, perusing the lists before looking back up. Both of her visitors were staring at each other, neither seeming to know what to say. The bug-eyed look was something she was getting used to with the guy, but Akane was rarely speechless.

"Akane, Hisagi Shuuhei. Shuuhei, Katsumoto Akane."

"Your fuku-taichou? Good job, sensei," the girl purred, and Minako threw one of the dango she hadn't picked at over the desk at the girl's head. Akane caught it, but it made a nice sticky mess on her hand.

"Shut it," she warned. "You have a boyfriend, I believe."

"He's in the human world," Akane said nonchalantly. But her attention was now off the very uncomfortable Shuuhei, who was backing out of the room slowly, his eyes alternating between the redheaded spitfire and the big black dog.

"Still yours, though. I thought you two were getting serious, even."

"Nah. I don't think he actually does serious—when was the last time he dated someone for more than a year?"

"No clue," she muttered distractedly as she looked back down at the papers on her desk. _Her_ desk. How odd that was. "So, you here just to see what they've done to me, or do you have a reason?"

"No real reason," the girl said, shrugging her shoulders. "Thought I'd check for shackles, but I don't see any. Other than that…"

_She's hiding something._

"What?"

The girl sighed, throwing her dango stick onto the white paper sack on the desk that was now home to bits of dango that Minako wouldn't eat. She looked…tired. And a little depressed, which wasn't like Akane at all. Of course, she couldn't shop as much here when boredom hit her, but Minako doubted there was any time to be bored in the Second Division.

"I think I'm lonely."

Minako snorted.

"I'm _serious_, sensei!" the girl exclaimed. "I haven't lived alone for years now—I'm not used to it anymore. No Chouko, no Kenta, no shishi, no you, no music blaring at odd hours or anyone trying to pull pranks. It's like a tomb in there."

"Give them time to know you, then you'll wish for peace," she said dryly. "I used to look forward to Sundays spent at the house to get away from the noisiness of the barracks. Of course, we could've been louder than the ninja crazies, too…I wonder what constitutes a barracks prank in ninja-dom?"

_I always wish for peace but never get it._

_You sleep most of the day—that's peace, shishi._

"I think shishi will trade places with you," Minako said brightly, hoping a little teasing would liven the girl up.

"I like it there, I do. I'm just…adjusting still, I guess."

"Well, you know where I am. Feel free to drop by and wreak havoc." Minako sent her a devious little grin. "Same goes for oji-san. He could use some chaos in his life."

The girl grinned, but then she shot Minako a guilty look and began fiddling with her clothing, a warning sign if there ever was one. In Akane speak it meant she had done something she knew Minako wouldn't approve of and dreaded telling her about—and Akane had been a very good girl lately. Whatever she had done could have been big with all that pent up energy.

"What?" she asked, wary.

"Someone came to see me yesterday," the girl said quietly, hunching into the chair.

"Your family isn't bothering you, are they? I'll deal with them if I have to. I once again have the full might of my last name and I'm not afraid to use it."

"No," Akane said, ducking her head down. "It was Ukitake-taichou."

Minako felt heat wash over her body. Now he was actually bugging Akane about this—everything was getting a little out of hand. She was hoping to be able to put off whatever tentative amends they would have to make to be able to work together when needed, but it seemed unlikely.

"Tell him to leave you alone. He shouldn't be involving you in this, like _that_, anyway," she said, trying to run a hand through her hair. She soon remembered her ponytail and frowned.

"Well," the girl said haltingly, "he just—damnit, sensei, he looked like a kicked puppy! He really does feel bad for what he said, and I know you lo—"

"Don't, Akane," she said warningly. "It isn't anyone's business."

"Sensei, aren't you being just a little hardheaded over this? If he wants to apologize you two can make up and get over this already—"

"I have been called a lot of things, Akane," she said, rising from her chair and leaning over the desk menacingly, reiatsu leaking out viciously, "but no one has ever insulted me like that. You can't love someone you think about like that. That's all there is to it."

"You're being _stubborn_, Minako!"

"I know I am. But there's more to this than just my hurt feelings. I do have some pride, you know!"

"What does pride have to do with it?" Akane asked as she got to her feet. "Because he hurt you? Minako, we've both been given the chance to do everything over again, but this time we both get exactly what we wanted. Don't let your hurt pride get in the way of that. It's stupid."

"He didn't hurt my _pride_, Akane," she spit out. "My pride won't allow me to be with a man that obviously doesn't feel the same way I do. I have too much pride to be used like that again."

"How do you know he's using you? _God_, you're so _stubborn_!"

"What's with you, then? Not even a week ago you were ready to rip him apart—now you're his advocate? I've gotten enough of that from Nanao, taichou, even oji-san. He has enough advocates, I assure you."

"I'm just trying to give you a swift kick in the pants—you did it enough for _me_!" the girl screamed, at which point the shishi crawled underneath a low table and the door swung open, Shuuhei looking ready to fight.

"Stay out of it," she hissed.

"You never butted out of anything in your life, Minako. And I'm not some shinigami you can order around right now—don't even try to treat me like that."

"Is there a problem?" Shuuhei asked, looking confused and definitely on edge.

"_Shut the door_!" both women screamed, and the poor man did, making sure he was on the other side of it.

Minako closed her eyes, breathed deeply, and counted to ten. They were no longer at the house; there was a division of shinigami out there that could probably hear most of what they were saying. And she was supposed to set an example, not argue with someone on her first day.

"Akane, please, just stay out of it. _Please_," she begged, and she opened her eyes to the girl slumping in on herself.

"Fine. I just hate seeing you unhappy when you don't have to be."

"But it isn't your decision," she said, sitting back down. "Let it go."

The redhead rubbed her face with both hands, but she nodded. Minako knew it wouldn't be left alone for long, but hopefully the girl would be too busy to think about it for a while.

"I've…gotta go, anyway."

"I have work to do." Minako looked down at the paperwork on her desk before looking back up and catching the girl's eyes. "Dinner Saturday? Isane wants to have a girls' night of sorts."

"Sure, sensei. I'll have calmed down by then."

"Right," Minako scoffed.


	39. Chapter 39

A/N: The last update before the epilogue! Enjoy this one, because it could be two weeks before the epilogue gets posted. I'm trying to find a place here in SLC and get everything set up work-wise, so I'm busy in the RW for the moment.

And thanks to those who reviewed! It definitely perked me up in the middle of my homesickness. I've never been away from my hometown, so this is new and a little scary for me. The reviews have definitely made me feel a little better.

Enjoy!

* * *

"The Noble Sort"

* * *

_Two Weeks Later_

Everything had gone surprisingly smooth, Minako thought, especially considering the tumultuous beginning to her new position.

Everyone had slowly gotten into a rhythm. She had finally gotten her fuku-taichou to loosen up—he was very different than the guy she met that first night—and the squad was getting used to her. They were even used to the shishi.

She had redone the drill schedules and tested some of the members to see who needed what training, and she had even given people areas to concentrate on. She knew their names now.

Her fuku-taichou was much calmer now that he only had to really worry about the paper—the third seat was helping her by managing guard duty and her fourth seat was in charge of rosters and scheduling. In two weeks she had managed to get everything organized so everyone worked but no one was _overworked_. Least of all her, thankfully. She wasn't going to slack off like her former taichou, but she wasn't going to work all the time like oji-san did. They could all pitch in and get it done more quickly.

It was ten times better than the Eighth, where one person did _everything_.

Oji-san had teased her about micromanaging, and she didn't know where he had learned the human term but she didn't appreciate it. Just because she wasn't letting her fuku-taichou run the division while she did paperwork all day didn't mean she was micromanaging. She was just…involved. That was her opinion on the topic, anyway.

It kept her busy.

She had slowly settled into a routine, a pattern that now marked her life back in Seireitei. She was happy, most of the time. She genuinely enjoyed her job and, in her personal opinion, she had one of the most talented divisions available.

The only downside, then, was her longing for human world food and entertainment. She missed television more than anything.

Well, and her _stalker_.

Ukitake-taichou, just as oji-san had said, was annoyingly persistent. He was determined to finally have it out with her, apologize, maim her, something—she wasn't sure. But she had run into him four times in the last week alone when outside the division, and he had even invented a reason to come into the Ninth the day before.

She had fled, white haori fluttering behind her with her ponytail, all the time Shuuhei running behind her as she barked out instructions to tell all visitors other than oji-san she was in a meeting or not to be disturbed or even _dead_.

The poor fuku-taichou had complied, although he had shown up at her door later that evening demanding an explanation. She finally told him that Ukitake-taichou was her ex, that they had a fight when she arrived back in Seireitei and he was hounding her about it. The man had cracked an odd grin and just left, whistling.

She hadn't known he whistled.

She wasn't sure she approved.

But right now there was no Ukitake-taichou to worry about—thank God, because her willpower was slipping day by day along with her anger—only the lower level division members that she drilled each morning. It improved their skills while giving her some exercise, sometimes some amusement.

She corrected one of the newer members on his stance, then explained what another was doing wrong with their swing and why it meant they weren't blocking effectively.

After watching them all pair off to do some light sparring—the only way to truly get better, in her opinion, besides letting her just beat at them until they learned how to do it right—she just stood back and observed.

They weren't the strongest bunch, that was for sure. But her group had heart, and no one had the ability to plan an event quite like the group in front of her. They weren't stars on the battlefield, but they organized most of the recreation of the shinigami which made them that much more important. She was a big fan of living life to the fullest in any circumstance.

All in all, this taichou stuff wasn't so bad.

* * *

She paid for that thought later that night.

Apparently the grace period had finally worn off; she was woken up around four in the morning by a harried fuku-taichou because around fifteen of their division members were currently being escorted to the Fourth Division for injuries.

She got up quickly, ignoring her male fuku-taichou and throwing her shihakusho on before rushing out the door and moving as fast as possible to the Fourth.

Shishi, lazy dog that he was, just ignored them.

"What the hell happened?"

He filled her in as they jumped quickly from building to building, both worried.

"From what I've been told, they ran into a group of Menos. They weren't strong enough to take on that many, although Renji said they took out three of them before back-up arrived to help them retreat. He and his squad took out the rest."

"I guess I should be happy they took down three, but what were that many Menos doing in one area and even remotely close to Seireitei?"

"I don't think anyone knows yet. Mostly, the Second and Twelfth have been dealing with the aftermath."

"They were patrolling the wall next to the Twenty-Third District! Farming community! It isn't even a hot spot!"

"I know," he said, jumping from the final roof to the tiled courtyard in front of the Fourth, landing barely a second after her. "A group from the Twelfth is checking all the souls in the area to see what was attracting them."

She hurried into the building, which was a hive of activity in the front rooms even at this time of night. Someone was always injured, or drunk, or dying.

Isane was waiting for her, thankfully, and she led her to another room full of beds, many of which were occupied by her division's tenth squad. Most of them looked like they were nursing minor injuries, although she did notice that two of them were missing.

"Where are Date and Kōga?"

"Their injuries were severe. They've been taken into surgery already, Minako," Isane replied.

"How severe?"

"Date-san has severed some muscles in his arm—a Menos claw injury, I believe. And Kōga-san has a punctured lung and several broken ribs, as well as a broken clavicle. He won't be leaving here for a few days I'm afraid."

"But they are both going to be fine?" she asked.

"Of course. And the rest of the squad has minor injuries, although they'll be out of commission for a few days as well while they heal."

She sighed, resisting the urge to slump against the wall at the release of tension. It was all she needed at the moment—it was way too early to have a division member die on her.

She shook her head, clearing it of the lingering remnants of sleep and the anxiety that had plagued her all the way to the Fourth. Then, she stepped forward, moving quickly to her fifth seat's bedside to find out what had happened. Shuuhei moved to follow but she motioned him away toward another member—he took the cue.

He was already learning to read her and she was learning to read him.

"I apologize, taichou!" the bulky man almost shouted.

"No—it's fine," she said, shaking her head. "But what _happened_?"

"They came out of nowhere—amazing with their size, but it's true! There were at least seven of them, so I tried to get a retreat organized until we could get some back-up, but they followed us. We had no choice, had to fight. We got three of them down, but Date was injured and half the group was getting caught with their attacks. I didn't think we'd get out, but Abarai-fuku-taichou showed up with another squad and took out the rest while we removed the injured and retreated."

"Removed the injured? You all seem injured," she said dryly, although the concern was plain on her face.

"Yeah, but most of it's flesh wounds. Only four were bad enough to need help. But it brought our numbers down pretty bad." He looked around, then lowered his head and spoke very softly. "The teams don't work together—I mean they do, but they don't."

"I know what you mean."

"It's been so long since they've had to do any fighting like this. Menos are tough, but—"

"But with the right teamwork they can be taken down. I know," she murmured, looking at him thoughtfully. Then she wrinkled her nose, nodding. "Rest. Get me a report as soon as you can—it's your first task when they finally let you out of here."

"Hai, taichou!"

She slowly moved around the room, talking to those Shuuhei hadn't seen yet, but she was getting the same story. After around ten minutes she was able to head for the door and find a seat in the waiting room outside—Shuuhei joined her not too long after, looking just as tired and beat. But he didn't sit down.

"Same thing all around."

"That's good, though, isn't it? A random hollow attack we can deal with," he said, crossing his arms and looking down at her.

"I agree. I just had horrific thoughts of returning to hordes of hollows. Oji-san said they fixed it, but it wouldn't be the first time…"

"You should get back, taichou—morning drills will begin soon."

"Actually, I think you should handle them today," she said, ignoring the look of surprise that crossed his face. Only two weeks in and everyone knew drills were her time with the division. "It's only an hour, and I'd rather be here when the other two come out. When I was in the Eighth, taichou always made sure to be there for everyone injured. It always made them feel better…more appreciated."

He nodded, still somewhat surprised, but left quickly.

She hadn't been sitting there long as far as hospital waits went, maybe a little over an hour, when a very familiar presence entered her senses. She groaned; the Fourth was, of course, his territory.

But he didn't seem ill right now.

She felt the surprise flare in his reiatsu when he saw her, and she could even feel a hint of concern. She brushed it off, hoping he would just walk by but knowing he wouldn't. Even with her eyes closed she sensed him as he sank into the chair next to her, tense.

He opened his mouth but she cut him off.

"Not now, please," she moaned out, her eyes still closed and her head back against the cool wall.

"Who—who is injured?"

"An entire squad," she spit out between gritted teeth. She crossed the fingers of her right hand, hoping and praying he would just leave and try to tackle this when she was running on more than a few hours of sleep and pure adrenaline.

"I'm terribly sorry," he softly. "I know it can be hard to see your subordinates hurt."

He was sincere, she knew. She had heard about what happened to Kaien and knew it must have hit him hard. Even if he couldn't love her he did tend to have a very large heart. Besides, he had centuries of experience in her position; he had probably seen more men injured than she could imagine at the moment.

Had it always bothered him? To be honest, it only became an issue when they were her friends or her own group—squad or division. She hadn't cared when someone unconnected to her was injured. It was a risk you took when you signed up for duty.

She opened her eyes and looked at him, her mind taking in every detail while she tried to figure out why he was sitting beside her.

"Minako-san," he started, and she stiffened, fearing a continuation of the apologies he'd been trying to give her for a month. "Don't worry—I'm not going to bombard you with apologies right now. But, taichou to taichou—if you should need—anything, even just advice—"

"Thanks," she said, her voice sullen. She couldn't help it; the morning had barely started and already the day was turning out to be a tough one.

"But you'll have to speak to me sooner or later," he said, standing and towering over her. He turned to continue down the hallway—she wasn't sure why he was here this early, although she knew he had his reasons—but then he stopped, turning to face her, a brilliant smile on his face.

Her heart lurched in her chest.

"My _hair_, Minako-san? Truly?"

"Try me and see," she replied, and she couldn't fight the grin that took over. So he had read the note on oji-san's door then. "Something tells me you wouldn't be half as _pretty_ if you were purple-haired."

"Childish," he said, scolding, but the smile was still on his face when he turned and continued down the corridor.

"You have no idea—I would make sure _all_ of your hair was purple, bastard," she muttered, grinning deviously. She knew he could hear her when he missed a step.

She let herself slump in the chair as soon as he was out of view; her heart was racing and she could feel her stomach trying to get up off the floor. It was why she had avoided seeing him—she had no willpower to resist him even though she knew she should.

But like every person before her that had been hunted by a member of the opposite sex, she knew he would eventually catch up with her. Then, they would have it out. She feared she would give in.

She was so _screwed_.

* * *

"Buck up, Shuuhei. He's not gonna be baying for _your_ blood, after all."

"Thanks, taichou," the man next to her muttered as he stared at the slowly opening doors of the First Division. Once the doors were open they both strode purposefully into the division's courtyard. "I still don't see why we had to do this in person."

"Get used to the unusual—it's to be expected when your taichou is his only living relative and his training dummy when he actually feels like unsheathing his sword. He does it to Shunsui and Ukitake-taichou, too." She shot him a quick grin. "Besides, this is an unusual request."

"_Shunsui_?" he asked in disbelief as they finally entered the building.

They both nodded to the clerk waiting for them and followed the thin man through the winding corridors to her uncle's office.

"I promised," she said sullenly.

Truth was, though, it had gotten a little confusing at a meeting when she kept referring to him as just "taichou." One of the few nights he and Nanao had come to visit, she had told him the story, at which point he had asked her to use his first name. It still felt weird.

"As informal as you both tend to be, I'm surprised you still called him taichou, to be honest."

"Well, you're more formal than I am—does that mean it will take three hundred years for you to finally relent and just call me by my name? I might respond more—I still look around for my uncle or my mother when you yell out _Yamamoto_-_taichou_."

"It isn't proper."

"Proper isn't always right. Should I have gone around calling Gen-oji-san sou-taichou after I became a shinigami? It never goes over well, I promise, and we would be missing buildings more often than not due to Ryuujin Jakka's shikai."

He just smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

He was a good guy, really, now that he wasn't as shy and formal around her. A bit too polite and definitely too friendly with _everyone_ for her tastes, much like the man she kept trying to get off her mind, but he also had a dark side. And he could fight. They were working well together; he toned her down and she was getting him to loosen up a bit.

And true to his word, he backed her up. Even when she knew what she was asking was crazy.

They climbed the last flight of stairs and rounded a corner to the upper courtyard, and then the clerk disappeared on them. Minako knew the way, though, and they continued down three more hallways before the entrance to the office was in their sight.

She took a deep breath.

"Ready?"

"Not really," he admitted.

"Not had a lot of contact with him, then?"

"He doesn't exactly roam Seireitei and greet everyone, taichou."

"But you haven't had a taichou for years—I figured, as fuku-taichou, that you had been the one meeting with him regularly for status updates and assignments."

"I have," he muttered, "but only rarely and not for long. But in the past three weeks I've seen him more than I ever have in my time as a shinigami." He shot her a look. "I really didn't appreciate Monday morning at all."

She bit down her smirk; it had been amusing to watch him try to navigate breakfast at oji-san's table.

"Just remember, he's like the shishi," she said, her hand coming up to knock on the door. "His bark is never worse than his bite, but he _uses_ it more often."

And then the door opened, Sasakibe coming into view, and they both prepared mentally for the meeting with the sou-taichou.

* * *

Five days later the entire division was assembled in front of her, all off to the side of their larger training grounds. They were lounging about at this point—they had been told they wouldn't be expected to train this morning.

Everyone knew this was an exhibition of sorts.

Shuuhei was greeting the other squad—she was pretty sure they had come from the Seventh—when she, Akane, Isamu, Kenta, and Chouko rounded the last building before the wide open space. Everyone immediately snapped to attention; it was a side-effect of the white haori, she'd found. She wasn't yet sure if it was a good one or a bad one, though.

She stepped up, bowing to the five-man squad across the large field, before taking off her haori and literally throwing it to the closest division member. The young man caught it reflexively. Then, she turned to face her division. They looked expectant but confused.

"It has come to my attention that you have never had any training in squad formations." There were some sheepish looks. "Individual strength is important, but it does no good to be strong enough to fight if you can't work with your team. This week's incident with Squad Ten wouldn't have happened if your previous taichou had taken care of this."

She saw Shuuhei's jaw tighten but ignored it.

"I spent my first years of service in the…shadows." Some eyebrows raised. "No, I won't tell you which one, although you should be able to guess." Some of the division members laughed—everyone knew she was too loud and flashy to be a ninja. "But both rely on teams, not on individuals. We'll be working on this for some time, but I want to show you the _difference_. I want you to see what can be done when you have a team you can work with."

Shishi padded forward to her side before transforming; he was a sword not a second later and resting in her hand.

"As for you guys, don't worry," she said to the team opposite. "No high-level kidō will be tossed around. Let's keep it simple."

They nodded, and her team stepped forward.

It was a traditional formation in the corps. Someone at point, right in front—that was her. Kenta and Isamu stepped up behind her, one to each side. Chouko was right behind her, but she was facing the opposite direction. And Akane, who was holding the back position, stayed far behind them and ready to catch anyone that came up on their tail.

It was a formation she could manage in her sleep.

"We'll even let you have first move," she called out, and the team opposite wasted no time. As they flashed through space, three appearing before her, her own team sprung into action.

_Down, onna._

Isamu had chains whirling to catch one, which she ducked to avoid even as she swung her sword to catch the one closest to her. She felt the fabric of his uniform tear before she pivoted on her heel, head coming down so Kenta could swing his own weapon into the space where she and the chains had just been.

Two of the opposite team were marked and therefore down. They flashed to the side, looks of shock on their faces. The third was already backtracking, meeting up with the other two teammates.

Then, a low level spell was tossed to their right, and one of their opponents disappeared in the wave of light. Chouko shouted out a number—it relayed the moving opponent's position—and Akane was gone, flashing to land right behind the opponent that had tried to come up behind them. Chouko swung one way and Akane's scythe flashed into existence, the blade coming to rest lightly at the guy's neck as she balanced against his back.

He was trapped, a scythe at his neck and a sword at his stomach. Chouko made a small tear in his uniform and the girls leapt away, letting him retreat to the sidelines peacefully.

_Coming from the right, but there's a kid__ō__—_

_Right up front, I got it._

Minako was still crouched and the two remaining opponents flashed to either side of her team, hoping to catch them or just making a last ditch attempt at taking one of her team out. One of them flashed off an attack of some sort toward her back, which she was able to guard against with a quick shield.

Then, when the two finally appeared at the left and right, they faced Minako at the front, who threw off two smaller arcs of fire, as well as two walls on either side of her formed by her four teammates.

_Will he take it, shishi?_

_I think so—I would. _

Her opponent to the left sacrificed himself to try and get a hit in, and Kenta immediately took him out with a swing that would have taken off a leg in an actual battle. But the final guy—the last one standing—flashed into the small space Kenta left open, taking advantage of the opening and hoping to get at least someone down.

Akane dropped to the ground, leg kicking out to trip the guy. He jumped over her but Chouko, always blunt, just swung her sword and threw him off balance as he tried to avoid getting cut. Isamu's chains were whirling over his head and then in front of him and the retreating Chouko, a literal wall of steel protecting them against any attack. And then she just turned, bringing her sword's sheath up to block his downward swing before thrusting her own sword through the fabric at his side.

And Akane's scythe took off an inch of fabric at his ankle. He would have been missing a kidney and a foot in a real battle.

_They weren't too bad for a regular shinigami team. _

_They're up against a taichou and corps. exiles. They never stood a chance._

_But they tried, and they never lost their cool. If only your division could do so well._

She snorted.

_They will by the time I'm done with them._

The final opponent flashed back to his team. All five of them chattered a minute before shooting her group sheepish smiles and nods, at which point her division erupted in loud, ear-shattering cheers. Even Shuuhei was clapping.

Her team, though, just adjusted their stances, standing patiently behind her as she waited for her guys to calm down and the other team to get back into position.

Finally, she raised her hand, and they all clammed up quickly, eager to listen.

"That was simple—no one was actually intent on harm. But you can see the difference in the level of fighting when you train to move together." They were exuberant nods. "Even their team fought well, utilizing the strengths of their members to plan their moves. It can be the difference between living and dying on the battlefield."

"It also improves over time. We've fought together for centuries—that gives us an advantage. The more you practice together," she said, rolling her shoulder, "the better you get together. You'll be able to predict each other's movements, know how to watch each other's back."

She jerked her head, at which point her team reformed. But this time they looked more like a triangle, she, Kenta, and Isamu the points, and Chouko and Akane forming the back baseline.

She turned toward their opponents.

"Our move," she said, grinning. "Let's amp this up a bit—throw some higher spells, make it a little more realistic." The other team nodded, one of their point members already forming a spell in his hand.

Chouko called off positions and then they were gone, flashing across the training ground to once again slaughter the other team. They leapt to avoid the oncoming kidō before slamming into the opposing team from three different directions.

She hoped they didn't take the defeat too hard; it was just a demonstration, after all.

* * *

_I do not like that blossom there._

_Then we shall be glad it isn't your painting, _she retorted mentally to the black dog lounging on the floor near her.

She swirled the brush once more in the greenish-yellow paint, then moved it quickly along the bottom of the canvas on the easel in front of her with quick, sharp strokes. She ignored the huffing spirit in her mind; he never had been fond of anything landscape.

When she had seen the easel she wanted to make Hikaru take it back to the house, but something stopped her. Before she knew it she had pulled it out, set it up, and started on a new print. She was now on her third painting since taking over the Ninth Division—the other two were hanging in her office. It kept her busy at night, proved a great way to de-stress after busy days like the one she just had, and gave her something to think about other than missing the inane chatter of Akane and wondering about Ukitake-taichou.

_Hopeless onna. You pine yet you turn him away._

She took a small sip of the wine on the table near her before tilting her head. He was right, actually; that one blossom needed to be a few centimeters to the left.

_I am glad I cannot have romantic relationships. They seem to be only trouble._

_In all fairness, shishi, most people don't date the guys I do._

_You mean murderous rapists? Felons? There was the motorcycle one, and the drummer—_

_Yeah. Guys like that. Thanks for rubbing it in._

She moved to grab another brush, hoping to fix the misplaced blossom on the tree, but she never got to.

_The spiky one is here. He brings treats._

She was already swirling the brushes in the clear water when he knocked.

"Come on in, Shuuhei."

Her fuku-taichou slid the door open and stepped in quickly, sliding the door shut behind him. He had a tray from the dining hall in his other hand; it wasn't the first time he had brought her dinner when she failed to show up for the evening meal. Hikaru or Akane, perhaps even Isane, had gotten to him about her eating habits she guessed.

She cleared room on the table near her easel and he sat the tray and tea down quietly before coming around to stare at the painting.

"Another landscape?"

She nodded as she stirred some spices into her rice.

_Please?_

"It's all I got right now. At least we'll have some artwork up on the walls—I'm not used to seeing so many bare rooms. It bothers me."

_Onna…please…_

"This flower here—"

"I know," she said, exasperated. "I was going to fix it before you decided I had to have dinner." He sent her a sheepish shrug, but he knew she wasn't actually aggravated. She wouldn't have stopped painting otherwise.

_You aren't going to eat it…you hate the dining hall's tempura…_

_Please?_

"Oh, good grief, here!" she said testily, throwing the four shrimp and the sweet potatoes with batter onto a separate plate and setting them loudly on the floor. Hidaruma scrambled up in a flurry of fur and clacking claws, running to the plate and digging in.

"Hungry, was he? Should I have brought more?"

"No," she murmured as he sat down across from her, flipping through a loose group of papers he had brought with him as she crossed her pajama-clad legs. "I'll be good with the rice and broccoli. But what's all that?"

He took a deep breath before giving her a weird look.

"Well—you know that the squad is very happy with you. Most of them are so happy to have a Yamamoto leading the division that nothing else enters their mind. And you've made everything run much more efficiently—"

"Cut out the waffle, Shuuhei. What's up?"

"You got your first complaint." He handed the top sheet to her very tentatively.

She read through it slowly, chewing on a piece of broccoli as she perused the paper. _This_ was her first complaint? Seriously? The First would see this and laugh their asses off.

"Taichou?"

"You expect me to worry about this?"

"Well, they do go to the First."

"This shinigami wrote a complaint that I, and I quote, _laughed at him then proceeded to scream at him because of his loss of control when trying to perform Hadou 4._" She raised an eyebrow.

"It's not exactly positive reinforcement, taichou," he said, although she could see the smile he was fighting off.

"No, but it was funny as hell to watch it explode in his face."

"Taichou, please," he said, laughing.

"Would you like to know why it took so long for Seireitei to fight off the Arrancar during Aizen's uprising?" He looked at her, taken aback, her tone warning him that she was about to explode into a verbal barrage. "Because you people can't take shit anymore! If I turned something like this in 300 years ago Tessai would've used me for barrier practice. It's not my fault I found it funny that a seated officer couldn't manage to pull off a spell that I've seen first year Academy students use in their _sleep_."

"Taichou—"

"No, I'm serious! When I was young, you could laugh at shit. You did something wrong, you expected it. And when the taichou made it known that you were a fucking idiot, you took it." She flung the paper back at him, and he threw it back on top of the pile of papers that went to the First. "Little whiny bitches," she muttered.

"They aren't all that bad, you know."

"Thank God. Otherwise I'd turn myself in tomorrow and spend my century of service behind bars." She looked at him, her eyes narrowed. "Transfer the little punk. If he wants soft, give him soft. After a few years in the Fourth he'll think differently."

"Yes, taichou. But—well, I know there are other seated officers that have problems with kidō, even a fuku-taichou or two."

"Would they cry like a toddler when I laughed at them for it? 'Cause I never did when Shunsui laughed at me—I might've been faking it, but it counts. Faking _always_ counts."

"That's horrible."

She gave him a glare without much heat—she heard the amusement in his tone.

_Is that over?_

_Yes._

_Do you think he could get me more?_

She rolled her eyes.

_He is NOT your personal servant, lazy dog._

_I cannot exactly wander over to the dining hall and grab my own, insensitive onna. _

She stared down at the yellow eyes looking up at her from near her waist. They softened into the Puppy Look, one she was very familiar with, and she sighed before bending and shuffling her broccoli onto his plate.

_That is not meat, onna. It isn't even a root._

_No, but it IS tempura. Eat it._

_But I don't want broccoli, _he said grumpily.

_Then you'll get nothing and like it._

She heard someone cough, and she looked over to see her fuku-taichou covering a grin with his hand.

"Yes, yes, it's all funny until he thinks you're the one to go to for food and he's following you around and waking you up at three in the morning because he wants sushi." She glared at the dog. "You're a zanpakutou—act like it, mutt."

He huffed before he bent down and literally inhaled the broccoli.

"When we dealt with our sword spirits running loose Kazeshini was much more trouble. I wonder if they are contrary on purpose or if that signifies something of our natures?"

"I think it says something about us, not zanpakutou in general. I can be just as stubborn and I throw a better temper tantrum."

"You do not eat half as well as he does," he said accusingly, and she shrugged.

"No one eats as much as the shishi, other than Yoruichi. And she can turn into an animal; maybe there is something to that…"

"Well, perhaps if you stopped giving him most of your meals, taichou."

"I've gained weight!" she exclaimed, affronted. "I've put on five pounds in two weeks! How fat do you want me?"

"Kotetsu-san says we're aiming for at least another two kilos before—"

There was another knock at the door.

They both looked up, surprised. Usually Shuuhei was the only one that came to her quarters to get her or bring her anything, although they couldn't discount a message. He was here already, so someone else could have been sent to them.

She wasn't expecting any visitors, either; Akane, Isane, and Nanao all tended to make sure she knew they were coming.

"I'll get it, taichou," he said, already out of the chair before she could even move toward the door.

_No more tempura if you can't do your job._

_Broccoli, onna. You deserve this._

Shuuhei slid the door open quickly, and they both looked shocked when they saw who was waiting on the other side. She scrambled up from her chair, almost knocking over her teacup.

Shuuhei turned towards her, his look of surprise quickly morphing into a grin, before he gave a jaunty little salute and stepped aside. Ukitake-taichou moved into the room and Shuuhei flashed to the table, gathering his papers and her forgotten dishes before flashing back to the entrance. He turned to slide the door shut, his grin positively evil now.

"I'll see you in the morning, taichou."

Hidaruma scrambled up and through the door with her fuku-taichou at record speed as she glared at them both, and she was left alone in her quarters with her visitor.

"I wasn't interrupting anything, was I?" he said, and she was sure she heard something unusual in his voice.

"No," she muttered, her hand scrubbing her face. She knew she had forgotten something in all the excitement today. It was her fault the guards had let him get this far. She knew she had to remind every squad when they took over posting!

"Ah. We need to talk, Minako."

She stared at him, then sighed, gesturing to the couch. He didn't move, just stood there taking in his surroundings.

She couldn't outrun him anymore.


	40. Chapter 40

A/N: Only an epilogue left, guys. The song outtake at the beginning is from Kate Winslet's lovely performance in "Romance and Cigarettes." Awesome movie.

Enjoy! R & R!

* * *

"The Noble Sort"

* * *

_Tell me your love is true..._

_Like I love you._

_Too many times romantic words are spoken,_

_Too many words of love are said in vain._

_Too many times a foolish heart is broken,_

_And left with just a memory for a token._

_How can I know that you..._

_Won't hurt me too?_

_

* * *

_She stared at him as he took in his surroundings, most likely making note of the easel and the massive amount of cd's sitting by the stereo she had stuffed in one corner. It was playing softly, strands of piano and guitar that were calming floating into the air.

She felt a brief moment of relief at the fact that the painting was turned away from him. He could learn a lot about her from those two things if he was as observant as she thought he was.

_Keep your cool, girl. If you do this right it'll all be over soon._

"Well, then?" she said quickly, crossing her arms. "Apologize so we can get this over with and move on with our lives."

"You are still angry with me?"

She blinked.

"Minako," he said, sighing, and he took a step towards her but she backed up, bumping into the table. "Fine—I won't come near you. But this is ridiculous; not only will we have to work together at some point, there are other considerations—"

"I can work with you just fine right now, if I have to. I'm mature enough to handle that. I would just prefer not to see you outside of any forced contact."

He ran a hand through his hair and gestured at her couch. She nodded warily, watching as he sat down heavily.

"I—I am sorry, Minako. It was a very long day, with too many surprises. I was…upset, and I know that does not justify the way I acted. But can you at least understand _why_?"

"I understood then," she replied demurely.

"But you haven't let me apologize!"

"There was really no need—and I _was_ angry, too. But I knew why—I understood." She glanced at the clock she had hung over her small personal desk—it was almost eight. "If that's all, then, consider it all over and done with. Let's just forget this whole thing ever happened."

She moved to the table, hoping to get some more of her painting done before she tried to go to bed, but his words stopped her in her tracks.

"That's it?"

"Of course," she said, looking at him over her shoulder.

"I have been chasing you around for over a month, barely able to get within speaking distance, and that's all you have to say?"

"There isn't anything more _to_ say, Ukitake-taichou."

"You'll—you'll just leave it at this, then?" he asked her in disbelief. "I—I thought—you said you lo—"

"_Don't_," she warned, turning back around to face him.

"Were you lying, then? I don't believe you were," he said forcefully, standing up from the couch. He stalked over to her—once again she envied his height—and she tried to back up but there was nowhere to go. The easel and the table were behind her. "I know I acted rashly—"

"Rashly?" she exclaimed. "I'm _rash_. That was—it was—well, it wasn't _rash_! And for the record," she said, straightening her back and trying to make her five feet and almost three inches stretch to match his six feet three inches, "I never say anything I don't mean."

"Neither do I!"

"Exactly!" she said triumphantly.

He gave her a look of confusion.

"You never say anything you don't mean—you might have been angry, but you _meant_ it. That's all I need to know."

"I can't even begin to understand what you mean," he said, the look of confusion still on his face.

"Heartless—soulless, even. Cruel, callous, uncaring," she spit out. "This is what you think of me. All because I went through something you probably can't even imagine and felt relief at seeing the men who tormented me for years finally get what they deserved."

"And I'm sorry I said it! You've never said something wrong in anger? I highly doubt that, Minako."

"I tend to think before I speak."

"And I knew I was wrong as soon as I left! I tried to make it up to you, I know I was—do you know how badly I felt once I realized what I had said? Sitting in your house, seeing that you obviously weren't anything like what they had made you out to be—"

"_You were in my house_?" she asked, her tone low and menacing.

"Who do you think helped procure the evidence you needed for your trial? We both know Shunsui cannot stay on task."

She looked like someone had slapped her.

"Oh, I don't know, Akane? Nanao? Hell, I would've gone for the blind guy in front of my corner market in the human world! No one ever said _you_ went!"

"You wouldn't let me near you!" he shouted, his cool finally gone. "It was the only way to see what you had been doing while the rest of us were here mourning you—I wanted to see your life! You never told me anything about yourself when you were here, only gave us glimpses of who you were. So yes, when I was presented with the chance, I took it! I wanted to see who you really were!"

"That's an invasion of privacy!"

"Minako—"

"You made it very clear you wanted nothing to do with me! No one would want to be with someone they thought so little of," she said, letting out a cynical laugh. "I shouldn't have expected anything better, though. You're a man."

"What does that mean?" he said, brows furrowed.

"It means that, like every other man in every single dimension, you can't be trusted. This _always_ happens to me—they start out so nice, and then _Bam! _And you," she said, stomping towards him and poking him in the chest with a finger, "you were the worst. So kind, and nice, and sweet, but underneath you're just as bad as the rest."

"That's unfair!"

"But it's true!"

"I would never treat someone like that!"

"You treated _me_ like that!"

"You came to my bed, Minako, I did not come to you," he said, chest heaving, and she felt her stomach drop.

Soon, though, his face crumbled with shame. "I—I shouldn't have said that, Minako, I'm—" She held her hand up, stopping his apology, and then gave him a slow, brittle smile.

"You're right," she said slowly, lowering her arm. "And I tried to give you an easy out once I knew how you felt."

She felt him reach for her shoulders but she spun out of his grasp, using her smaller stature to duck under his arms. She moved quickly away, hoping to get some distance between them. She would have to make a break for the bedroom soon; she wouldn't let him see how much even this small argument had upset her.

"What are you talking about—"

"Please," she said sarcastically, still blinking the moisture out of her eyes. "We both know you don't—you can't feel the same way I do. After that night at the hospital you should have left well enough alone. There was no need to hash it out like this."

"I have no earthly clue what you mean," he replied, shaking his head.

"You. Don't. Love. Me. You can't. And that's fine," she said hurriedly, putting her hands up when he moved toward her. "But you should have left it all alone—I would've gotten over it even quicker if you hadn't continued to follow me around."

"You think I don't care about you?" he asked, an expression of shock on his face. "Minako, if I didn't care for you I wouldn't have traipsed all over Seireitei just to get a minute of your time. I even begged Genryuusai-sensei to speak to you—do you _realize_ what that took?"

"I understand that! But it's—you're confusing trying to repair a relationship with your sensei's family with something else."

"I promise any argument with Hikaru-san would not affect me in such a manner," he replied with a sarcastic little laugh.

"I just came back from the dead—anything you felt was purely shock. You _meant _it, you see?" she said, but she had to turn around finally, her hand on the sliding door to her bedroom. The tears were beginning to slide down her cheeks.

"No, I don't see!" he replied, and she could hear the frustration in his voice.

"You meant what you said that night. No one can—love—someone they see that way," she said slowly, stutteringly, and then she slammed the bedroom door open. "Have a good night, Ukitake-taichou."

She stepped into the room and made to jerk the door shut behind her but he grabbed her wrist, spinning her around and pulling her close to him.

"Don't call me that."

"It's your name."

One of his hands titled her face up, rubbing at the tear tracks on one of her cheeks.

"I shouldn't have made you cry." She got the feeling he was apologizing for more than just the tears on her cheeks. She tried to pull back, to pull her hands up and wipe them away, but he wouldn't let her loose.

"It isn't your fault—oh, God, I'm turning soft," she moaned out, letting her head hang. He pulled her to his chest and she felt the rumble of laughter before she stiffened at the realization of how close he was.

"Let me go," she said forcefully, pushing on his chest.

"No. Talking to you obviously isn't working in my favor," he said, and she could hear the laughter in his voice. She pushed harder but he had fifty pounds on her, even as thin as he was, and was definitely stronger. "I do love you, Minako."

"No, you don't!"

"_Stubborn_," he said, scolding. He bent down and kissed her square on the lips, and she froze. But it didn't last long. She jerked her face away and pushed at him again. "Stop telling me how I feel—I should know, don't you think?"

"I think you're confused."

"I think you think too much."

He kissed her again, at which point her brain and her body started fighting. Her mind said to pull away, to make him leave, but her heart was pounding, things even lower were beginning to literally _throb_. She couldn't deny that she'd wanted to kiss him, to have him hold her, since she returned. She was still a woman, after all. But—

But she wanted someone to care about her, just once.

_To love her._

And she wasn't sure he really did. It was a confusing situation, and other emotions could feel dangerously like love. She knew from personal experience.

"Stop," she murmured, turning her head. His lips followed, but he began kissing her jaw. His hand was moving along her waist underneath her tank top, tracing the top of her pajama pants, and she fought to keep thinking, to just form words. To remember the anger that had taken over her just a few minutes earlier. "You can't."

"Why not?" he said breathily. "Shunsui said I should just grab you and kiss you."

"Don't _ever_ take relationship advice from taich—_ou_," she said, her laughing statement turning into a moan as his hand slid across her back. "You can't. _We_ can't."

"Again—why not?" He pulled back, looking into her eyes, and she realized she would lose the battle. The many dreams she had during her three years in the human world—three long years with no boyfriends—were flashing through her head, making her dizzy with desire.

"You—"

"If you say I don't love you…" he warned, a big smile on his face.

"But—"

"Let me make that decision, hmm?" He kissed her again, briefly. "Unless it's because you've found someone else? Shuuhei-kun was here with you, eating a late supper—you are in your nightclothes, there was a bottle of wine on the table..."

"I would never! He's a baby!" she exclaimed, affronted.

"That did not stop Shunsui," he laughed out before his mouth lowered to her neck. He began to walk her backward, towards her bed, and she almost let him get away with it. But then the back of her thighs hit the mattress and she stiffened, her back ramrod straight as she tried to push him away again.

He groaned, hanging his head.

"You really don't want this!" she exclaimed, and she felt his breath ghost across her shoulder at his huff. "I don't want you to make a mistake—I've made this mistake _tons_ of times. It never ends well."

"I promise it will," he said, his arms going around her waist as he pulled her up and sat her on the bed.

"You can't promise that!"

"Has anyone ever told you that your stubborn streak would get you into trouble one day?"

"Stop—stop changing the subject. I won't let you do this—you're not cut out for the type of regret that comes from a meaningless fling. And I don't think I can handle it right now, not with you."

"Minako," he said, taking her face in his hands. She looked up at him and saw he was no longer smiling; he was serious. "_I love you_. I'm sorry for what I said, and I love you. Stop _fighting_ me."

She looked into his shining, copper colored eyes. He wasn't lying.

He wasn't lying—still, could she trust him like this again? That's what he was asking for, after all, her trust. Part of her was fighting it, fighting against the possibility of getting hurt once again, but the other part—it was the part that had always gotten her in trouble—it said to trust him, that no one else would be as trustworthy as he, and that she should just stop fighting.

So she did.

She let him slip the tank top off over her head and bare her chest to his gaze, let him untie her pajama pants. She watched as he slipped off his own taichou haori before crawling onto the mattress, hovering over her.

She was surrounded by white hair.

It was amazing, finally seeing him like this with light, even if her bedside lamp didn't put off a great deal of it. But—if they were going to do this again, if she was going to put her heart on the line again, she wanted to do this her way. But she was still so conflicted—if the glimpses he had gotten of her made her think such horrible things about her, could she possibly be herself now? Ever?

Well, there were always ways to test it out…

She grabbed his shoulders and lifted her hips, ignoring his groan of desire as the lower half of her body met his, and she pushed. He was over and on his back seconds later with her straddling his waist.

His hands came up to grab her hips, and he gave her a smile that turned her insides to liquid fire.

"How much weight did you actually lose? I think my hands will fit around your waist," he murmured, and she leaned down to kiss him, to shut him up. She pushed his kimono apart forcefully, baring his chest to her roving hands. She could feel his own as he pushed her pajama pants down her hips—he would be surprised momentarily, she knew, and she smiled against his lips when he gasped.

He jerked back as far as he could against the mattress, a grin on his face.

"Really, Minako? Your fuku-taichou was in the room!"

"How would he have known I wasn't wearing underwear?" She laughed at his look of consternation then lowered, flattening herself against him to straighten herself out and kick off the pants.

Now she was naked as the day she was born above him, naked while he was still fully clothed. It was an intriguing sensation—one she never forgot. There was always an element of dirtiness in it that she reveled in.

"It still isn't right!"

She shook her head.

"You're worrying about my lack of underwear when I'm naked on top of you? Strange man," she murmured, kissing the flexing tendon in his neck. "You should be worried about having too much clothing on."

It took some maneuvering with them so close to each other, unwilling to let the other move too far, but she eventually pushed off his kimono and untied his hakama. He was very helpful, thankfully, which brought a true smile to her face, one he kissed and marveled at. Soon his hakama were gone, as were his own undergarments, and he was as naked as she.

Then she stretched, flicking off the small bedside lamp.

"I have already seen you, Minako." She laughed, lightly smacking him as he turned them over to once again end up on top of her.

"It's for comfort," she said, nuzzling his neck before nipping the lobe of his ear as his hands drifted down her ribs, her stomach, fluttering across her hips. "Besides," she murmured, "there are still many things about my body you don't know."

_Oh._

_Right there, please…_

"I am still going to be sure you have a large meal tomorrow—you are unbelievably thin." She was sure he was scolding her but she couldn't bring herself to care as his hand finally found the one place she wanted him to touch.

She stopped thinking.

* * *

They were curled up in her bed, sheets riding low and his hand trailing from her shoulder to the base of her spine. Her hair was, for once, free from its ponytail—he had asked for her to take it down for him. There had been a token resistance, but the nuisance it could be was worth it when she saw the look in his eyes.

She had never felt so beautiful before.

But she could sense that his attention was somewhere else. Not surprising, if it was centered on sleep. He had thoroughly worn her out. But she got the feeling it was something else.

She turned a bit, looking at him over her shoulder.

"May I ask—" he started, giving a telling glance over to the very long table he mostly recognized from her apartment.

"My junk table?" he nodded, although she could see the amusement at her nickname for her keepsakes. She pulled the sheet up and tucked it firmly under her arms before sitting up and leaning against the headboard.

"They're items from my travels in the human world. All special." A wistful smile crossed her face, one he had never seen before, that made her look more feminine than ever. "Wooden figurines from Africa, a Peruvian statue, a very expensive Wedgewood cup I bought in London. Stuff like that."

"Each has a story?" he asked, propping himself up on an elbow.

She nodded, biting her lip.

"And?"

"You'll kill me when I say it," she said laughingly, blushing.

"What then? Is this like Shunsui's poems—each has a story that you cannot tell in polite company?"

"We'll leave it at that." He shook his head. "You really don't want to know. Trust me."

"Why do I have a feeling that these items might somehow involve not just impolite stories, but impolite stories about men?" he muttered.

"Because you know me better than you think." He fell back to the pillow, sighing somewhat dramatically, and she turned, moving to swing her feet over the edge of the bed. "I did warn you, you know."

She wiggled about, half bent over, trying to figure out where her clothing was in the pile of fabric on the floor. She usually got way too cold at night, even in summer, to sleep in the nude.

"Well?" he asked, his curiosity apparently overcoming his jealousy.

"The African figurines were a guy I met in Egypt touring the Nile. The sand—see, in the jar there—that came from the states, where they set off the first atomic bomb. A friend of a friend that had a dangerous streak even bigger than mine. The panda was from the Beijing Olympics—actually not a guy, but I did meet a crazy group of Americans that I had a blast with."

"And the rest?" he asked, now sitting up and watching, almost leering, as she struggled to pull her pajama pants on underneath the sheet she was twisted up in.

"Matsu," she muttered. She felt his palm ghost over the small grey flower on her back, tracing the lines of the tattoo she had received years ago on a trip to the beach. "Yes, that too. I had wanted one, but he was the factor that led to it actually happening."

"I was very blind, wasn't I? I'm usually much better at such things."

"I told you," she said, pulling her tank top over her head and righting it before turning to look back at him, "you were upset. A lot had happened—understandable."

"Well," he said, "the old Minako would have never excused it. And she would have had every right to be angry with me."

"I'm not really too sure who I am anymore. It's getting clearer, but I'm still confused." She shot him a lopsided smile. "It might be time for you to run like hell and save yourself."

"I think—I think you know exactly who you are."

They shared an intense look for way too long, making her more uncomfortable than she could remember being.

But she shook her head, crawling into the bed and scooting right up beside him. He was warm, and solid, and male. Just his scent was enough to make her senses tingle.

"Think you can deal with it?"

His arm flexed over her stomach as he pulled her closer.

"I'm still one of the best taichou, yes?" he said, teasing.

* * *

Minako struggled to wake up around five the next morning.

She rolled over, opening her eyes slowly and letting her arm inch across the mattress, searching for her lover. She soon realized, though, that all she could feel was cool sheet and a pillow; it shocked her into wakefulness abruptly. She pushed up, looking around, but there was no sign that he had ever been in her rooms.

No clothing, no haori, not even a white hair on the pillow.

She jumped up, pulling her hair tie loose and redoing her ponytail before padding across the chilly floor to the sliding door separating her bedroom from her sitting area. She slid the door back slowly, looking around, and couldn't help the small sound of shock she let out.

He was still here.

He looked up from the table, smiling at her. He was already dressed and ready to go but he had been nice enough to get her breakfast, which definitely won him points. He gestured to the tray across from him and she crossed to the table slowly.

"Good morning," he said, smiling.

"Good morning," she murmured as she sat down. He had even gotten the shishi at some point. The big black dog was lounging in the floor by his feet, an empty plate near his head. She glared at him. "You didn't."

"He was sleeping outside your door this morning. He followed me to the dining hall—don't worry," he said, laughing at her expression, "there were only a few of your division members up this early. He was whining, so I brought him something, too."

"He'll never leave you alone now," she warned.

"If it will buy me some time alone with you, I do not care," he said, his eyes locked with hers.

_Tell him I still get my spot on the couch. He can't have it._

_Oh?_

_Yes. And in winter I still get the foot of the bed._

She laughed, and wondered what alternate reality she must have entered.

"What did he say?" he asked as he sipped his tea, staring at her. She shifted uncomfortably.

The only person she had ever had to do breakfast with the morning after was Matsu. And they had known each other so long, been so easy together from the very beginning—_no_. She wasn't going to let him enter her mind today. Today was not about him or what he had done to her life, it was about what came after.

"He said you can't have his spot on the couch, and he'll still be hogging the bed in winter. But you seem to have passed the test—congratulations. You're the first one to ever do so."

"Perhaps he is smarter than his master," he replied, his eyes shining.

_And that is why I have not bitten him yet, _the dog preened in her mind.

She shifted again, letting her focus fall on the traditional breakfast he had brought them. She wasn't a big fan of breakfast, but it gave her something to focus on. She nibbled on a piece of fish and tried to ignore his heavy gaze.

"I must be back at my division by six. Otherwise the dynamic duo will pull apart Seireitei looking for me—I try to avoid their crazier antics as much as possible."

"Shuuhei will be here around half past—we usually go over the day's schedule before drills," she murmured, not looking up at him. But she couldn't eat anymore—she leaned down, setting the plate of fish in front of the black dog, which he immediately started eating.

"You should have eaten that," he scolded lightly. "How much weight have you lost?"

She was really getting tired of people harping about her weight; she couldn't gain it all back so quickly.

"One piece of fish won't make that big a difference. I don't usually eat breakfast." She finally glanced up, meeting his eyes for a moment. "Besides, I think you're thinner than I used to be."

"Not by choice." He set his now-empty teacup down lightly, taking the folded napkin from his lap and throwing it onto his tray.

She glanced up at him again, sure the discomfort and nervousness she was feeling was showing on her face. She really wasn't used to this. And the one morning they had spent together they had focused on other things—breakfast hadn't been on either of their minds that day.

"Minako?"

She met his eyes guiltily.

"You're nervous," he said, grinning like a schoolboy.

"Shut up."

"I never imagined—"

"_Shut_ _up_."

She saw his chest rise and fall in silent laughter, and she glared at him. "I'm sorry—you just strike me as so much like Shunsui that I never thought—"

"I usually make sure I'm gone by this point. It's different in the morning for some reason."

"_That_ will have to change. I did not spend a month chasing you to have you run off every night! And I like your rooms," he said, glancing around. "No Sentarou, no Kiyone. I wonder how often I can actually sneak out?"

"They don't know where you're at?" she asked in disbelief.

He gave her a sneaky smile that looked very out of the norm for him.

"Unbelievable," she muttered, jumping up from the chair and pulling him up out of his own, ignoring his laughter. She literally pushed him to the door, but he grabbed her hand before she could throw it open.

"Do you have anything pressing tonight?" he murmured, his lips falling gently against her temple.

"I—no. But you won't be doing anything tonight if you don't get back! They'll murder you before lunch!"

"Then I'll be by around seven. I'll be meeting Shunsui and Nanao-san for tonight's meal at the teahouse in the Second District. You'll enjoy yourself, and I can make sure you actually _eat_."

"Do I have any say in this?" she asked, looking up at him.

"No—if I give you time to think, you'll bolt." His hair flowed with the breeze as he leaned down quickly, whispering in her ear. "Don't make any plans for after, either. I do want to get a better look at that tattoo—I can just imagine sensei's face if he knew."

She resisted the urge to smack him, instead yanking his head down and giving him a swift kiss on his mouth. She felt his arms come up to wrap around her but she pushed them down, pulling away and turning him towards the door.

"Go," she commanded. "I'm going to have enough looks from my own division when they see you leave—I don't want to get it from yours, too."

He slid the door open, squeezing her hand once before giving her a brilliant smile. Then, instead of just walking out like she thought he would, he proved he was still a very powerful taichou by quickly flash stepping out of her vision, appearing briefly on top of an adjacent building before flashing away again. She leaned back against the doorjamb, thoughts running through her head a mile a minute.

She still felt a little confused, truth be told. Wasn't she angry?

She couldn't remember anymore.

"So he stayed the night?" someone asked teasingly, and she turned her head, glaring at her fuku-taichou. He appeared to her left from the shadows, a large grin on his face.

"Oh, shut up."

She turned to go back into her rooms—she needed to be ready in less than an hour—but his next statement stopped her in her tracks.

"Did you forget the traditional layout of the barracks?" he asked, still grinning.

"No—why?"

"Just—think about it."

It took a moment for his meaning to finally hit her, but when it did she blushed bright red. She sent him a furious look before slamming the door behind her, but she could hear him laughing as he moved off toward the communal buildings for breakfast.

All the officers quartered together. In every division she had ever seen, the fuku-taichou's rooms were right next to the taichou's quarters to keep them close in case of an attack. He had most likely heard everything that had gone on last night.

She was going to kill one of them before the day was over, she knew it.

But she was still smiling like a giddy schoolgirl.


	41. Epilogue

A/N: Well, I hope everyone enjoyed the story! I'll be going back and editing in the next few months, fixing the mistakes I've noticed since and adding a few extra scenes, so if you have the story on alert, be aware that it might pop up every once in a while. And I am still considering a sequel of sorts, although it would be much more centered on Nanao and Shunsui. I have some scenes written out and an outline, but I'm not too sure on it. My foray into Bleach hasn't done so well. And I'm super, super busy at work. I've been putting in 65 hours a week instead of the normal 40-45.

But I enjoyed writing it, playing with the characters, and just getting to know and create such a universe inside the Bleach cannon. I did have problems with the Epilogue—I wanted some big scene at the end with all those important to Minako. Instead, I went with two smaller scenes showing the conclusion of the conflict that opened the story and a representation of how she lived her life in the moment from then on.

I hope you enjoy it.

Anyway, thank you to all who have reviewed, favorited, alerted, and e-mailed. I have over 1,000 notifications from different sites saved in my folder for this story, and each one is important to me. My review count might not be high on two of the sites, but it was all still worth it. I enjoyed writing it and I love that you enjoyed reading it. It was a fun project in a very bad part of my life—namely, unemployment—and I'll never regret it.

And I'll still be around, so any questions you guys have I'll be happy to answer.

Remember: the original ending scene and explanation has been posted as well. You might check it out, just to see how far off base I ended up.

* * *

"The Noble Sort"

* * *

_Four Months Later_

"Remind me again why we had to do this ourselves?" her fuku-taichou asked, shooting her a look.

"Well, it's too pretty a day to stay inside chained to my desk. And I hadn't gotten to see Nanao in weeks with all the extra prep for the festival. And, well, truthfully…let's just say it was time for it."

He nodded, finally understanding.

His exasperation was understandable; they had spent most of the day in the Eighth instead of working all because she had insisted they take some paperwork to Nanao. But she had been back in Seireitei for almost half a year now, and this was something she had continued to put off, too afraid of the reactions of the shinigami she used to serve with to do it sooner. It had been her opinion that time would at least take the edge off.

She had been worried for nothing.

No one had forgotten her infamous past, but it had been put in the back of people's minds. It didn't linger in the air during her return to the Eighth.

Her former division mates were just happy to see her and happy to be able to claim another taichou from their group. She spent hours catching up with many of the seated officers, men and women she had known—lived with and loved—a century before, and had a wonderfully amusing lunch with her favorite couple.

They were so fun to watch.

There was only one more person to see, and she had felt the need to do it privately. Shuuhei refused, though, and followed her anyway.

He had become much more obstinate lately, more forward. She was enjoying seeing the real him, but she kind of missed the polite guy she met at first. This one…well, he reminded her too much of herself sometimes.

She turned the last corner quickly—the layout of the division was still firm in her mind, even all these years later—and came to a stop right in the open doorway to what the division members affectionately called "the blast room."

It was the only practice room they had that could withstand the higher spells without taking damage.

At two in the afternoon there were few people there, just a spare shinigami or three practicing in their off time. But there was one man, over in the corner, that rarely left the room. He was responsible for controlling the junior shinigami's reishi levels and making sure nothing got too out of control. It was an ideal post for someone whose zanpakutou could regulate, retrieve, change memories…and control reiatsu through them.

"_Ju-_ro!" she sang out.

The man in the corner turned haphazardly to the door upon hearing his name, dropped the target he was trying to mend, and literally sprinted across the room.

Before she knew it she was engulfed in six foot of bulky man, big strong arms wrapped around her and squeezing out all the air in her lungs.

He was one of the few she was affectionate with. He was too cuddly not to be.

"Do you have _any_ idea what you put us through?" he growled out, although she could literally feel the smile on his face.

"I'm sorry!" she said, laughing. "I had other things on my mind, you big ass. What kind of greeting is that, anyway? "

"The _right_ one."

He stepped back, keeping his hands on her shoulders as if to assure himself she was actually in front of him. He nodded to the very surprised fuku-taichou beside her before giving her a look so full of remorse she could almost feel her heart break.

"After you left—I wondered so many times if I should've done more, if I should've went to your uncle myself…" he trailed off, his blue eyes looking straight into hers. She could almost feel him sifting through her memories again. "I blamed myself for a few years, even thought of trying to track you down."

"You couldn't have. I was _very_ well-hidden. And none of it was your fault—there was nothing you could have done to help me. I think I was too far gone at that point to take help from anyone here."

He gestured to the wooden benches along one of the walls and they moved that way, Shuuhei trailing behind with a very odd look on his face.

"I should've refused outright. If I had known…"

"What good would it have done? I would've ended up that much more freaked out later on if I hadn't known what happened." They both collapsed onto the benches, as if the full weight of their emotions was heavy on their shoulders. Shuuhei, still following, sat down a few feet away with a strange look still distorting his handsome features.

She could tell he was listening but pretending not to.

"I still—there are so many things I could've done, could've said—"

"None of which would have made a difference." She took his bigger hand in between hers, studying the faint scars from kidō that crisscrossed his knuckles, and hers, too. "You can't blame yourself for it. You helped me more than you know…you and Isane. And I was gonna do what I wanted. You know how I am."

"Don't I?" he sighed, squeezing her hand once before pulling his own away. "Taichou now, huh? They finally wizened up. I thought they would at some point, but your mother and uncle were pre-tty insistent, if I remember right. Still…"

She smirked.

"I wondered if you would ever come see me, you know. Thought maybe you were too embarrassed about it all."

"I am, to a point. I wish you hadn't seen it. But it does no good to dwell on it—my most important lesson from my time in exile." She shoved him gently with her shoulder. "Besides, you should be embarrassed, not me. I didn't cry like a big baby."

A dark look passed over his face.

"I had every right. What they did to you," he stopped, choking on his words. He swallowed the lump in his throat down slowly, glaring at the floor. "No one deserves that."

"Well, it's over now, you—you—gah!" She shook her head, a quirky smile on her face. "I'm as healthy as a horse and as fat as one, too. He's been feeding me more than I can handle," she said, pointing at her fuku-taichou.

"You look great. I'm…I'm glad to see you back, Minako."

"And in another division where I'm not the one on your ass all day?" He laughed, nodding his head. "Although from what I hear, Nanao's just as bad as me and Lisa. You poor things—laziest taichou in Seireitei and the hardest fuku-taichou to compensate."

"Keeps things interesting."

Juro waggled his eyebrows at her, leering at her in a way she had somehow forgotten amongst all the foggy memories from "before," and she heard Shuuhei choke on the air he was sucking in.

_Annnnd we're in trouble now._

Her fuku-taichou was sometimes too observant for his own good.

She slapped her hands on her knees before shoving up off the seat, her hand coming to rest on his shoulder lightly before she stepped away. Shuuhei stood behind her, ready to leave as quickly as possible.

"Well, unlike _some_ of you, I have things to do."

"I'm sure," he muttered, sending her a grin. "Don't be a stranger, huh? Come visit your lowly old friends once in a while."

"I will." She bit her lip. "I was—not worried, but—"

"I know. Don't be."

She flashed him a brilliant smile, one only those closest to her had ever seen, before turning and waving nonchalantly over her shoulder. She heard his huff as he moved back to what he had been doing.

She could also hear the wheels turning in Shuuhei's head though.

As soon as they left the room she heard him take in a breath, ready to bombard her with questions, but she put her hand up.

"At least let us get outside first."

He nodded, waiting very impatiently until the very moment the weak fall sunlight hit them before the words busted out.

"Who—"

"Juro," she said, innocently.

"But—"

"Yes."

"Does Ukitake-taichou know—"

"I did not feel the need to furnish him with a list of my previous lovers, no." She shot him a look as they moved through the courtyard of the Eighth and into the street of Seireitei. "It was long before I left, closer to when I entered the division than when I left it."

"And what—"

"Nothing you need to know."

"But—"

"None of your business, Shuuhei."

"But—"

"_Hell_ no."

He stopped at that, a weird look on his face. He almost looked angry with her, although she couldn't figure out why her silence bothered him so much. She turned back toward him, sighing deeply and fidgeting with the sword on her hip absently.

"Why do you have to know?"

"There is nothing you don't know about me, taichou. Until now I thought there was nothing I didn't know about you."

"I wanted trust, boy, not an intimate relationship," she snorted.

"Secrets only lead to more secrets."

"This isn't so much a secret as an omission from the official story. It's private, and I mean to keep it that way. Hard to do here, but we've been successful so far." She turned back around and continued toward their own division, a little angry now.

"I've seen you _naked_, taichou," he hissed. "I've walked in on you and Ukitake-taichou more times than I care to remember. What can be more embarrassing than _that_?"

In her opinion, that wasn't embarrassing. That was just him having bad luck.

"There are some very dark things in my past, Shuuhei, things I try very hard to forget."

"Like we don't all have skeletons." She heard him let out a frustrated huff. "I can't do my full job without knowing everything."

"No one ever said you had to defend me from all the rumors. Let them talk—I don't give a shit, really."

He grabbed her shoulder, forcing her to come to a stop in the middle of the street, and she had a fleeting thought that maybe she had been too lenient, too willing to foster a friendship with her subordinate officer.

She turned to face him, ready to literally scream out her protest, but the words died on her lips.

She remembered how she and Kyouraku had been. How he and Lisa had been. How he and Nanao were, although they couldn't really be counted, considering. Even how her uncle and Sasakibe were when they were alone or just around those they trusted. The taichou-fuku-taichou relationship was different, always had been. Rank flew out the window with most of the teams when they were alone. They were confidants, dual leaders of the division.

She sighed, letting her head drop.

"What if I promise you it's something that won't ever be fodder for the rumor mill?"

"Then you still don't get it," he forced out. "I've kept nothing from you. You know about my childhood, my trouble with my zanpakutou, you know I was the one to _kill_ my former _taichou_. I thought you were extending me the same trust."

"There is very little I haven't told you, Shuuhei. But what you're asking—very few people outside of Central know the full story. Out of that group, not one of them is someone I haven't known for decades, most of the time centuries. Only those closest to me have ever heard anything about it."

She finally met his eyes, hoping he would realize it wasn't something she wanted to talk about. But his stare was hard, anger burning deep behind his irises. She could feel his reiatsu reacting, too, which would only draw attention to their argument.

"_Fine_," she spat, jerking her shoulder out from underneath his hand and twisting around. She was gone in the blink of an eye, her shunpo unbelievably fast as she drew on her anger.

It took them just a few minutes to make it back to their division, and by the time he landed in front of her, winded and out of breath, she had the door to her quarters open and was standing stiff, waiting on him.

"We don't have all day," she bit out.

He entered silently, cringing a bit when she slammed the sliding door shut, but when she came to sit across from him at the small western style table all his attention was focused on her. And she hated it.

_My dear, it is better to get it all out of the way now. It won't come up later._

_It's none of his business._

_Truly? I think the boy has a point. _

Even her zanpakutou was against her in this.

She sighed heavily, picking at one brightly polished nail.

"The official story is that I was involved in an experiment on bankai. I was later given an order to assassinate those involved by oji-san. Right?"

He nodded.

"Well, that's all true, but it's the cleaned up version." She scoffed. "Central didn't think the full truth of what had gone on needed to be aired. I agreed; it's personal, and humiliating. But I hate lying."

"So what really happened, then?" he asked.

"I was one of seven people—that I know of—experimented on. I didn't have any memory of the event. I went to Juro to have him recover the missing time I was experiencing." She chanced a look at him. "It was worse than we had thought."

"I can only imagine. But this isn't so bad, taichou. If it was members of Central and Zero, there's no need to be embarrassed that they were able to capture you."

"If only," she snorted, shaking her head.

"Then—"

"I was _raped_, you idiot." She saw the comprehension written in his face. "I didn't leave because of any experiment, or because I was embarrassed they had been able to take me down, I left because I was raped and thought I was pregnant and oji-san hadn't believed me when I told him. Well, that and I was crazier than Urahara for a while after. I believe they now call it Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, although when I defected there was no such term, and, therefore, no treatment."

He nodded, his mouth hanging open in shock.

"It only gets worse. One of the men involved spent a great deal of time in the human world, basically getting close to me and making sure I wasn't a liability. I thought I was in _love_," she said mockingly. "I soon realized I wasn't, but only after having almost gotten engaged. I ended it, but he was a constant in my life for years afterwards."

"He wasn't the one—"

"Of course he was. The illustrious Matsu that Juushirou's always bringing up? Yeah. He thinks I need to talk about it to really get over it all, but what he doesn't realize is—the fact that I can sit here and tell this story somewhat calmly, that's progress enough. I've buried it. It's done."

"Good God, taichou." She could see it building in him, now, that look of pity and remorse and guilt that all the men around her seemed to carry for something that wasn't their fault. It only made it worse, as far as she was concerned.

"_Don't_. I have obviously gotten over it. Don't make it worse."

"But—"

"You weren't there. It obviously wasn't your fault! God, I do not understand how you males can take and make this all about your personal failure!" She let her forehead thump against the table, sighing deeply before looking back up at him. "Just—don't."

He nodded, his face still ashen.

"Good. Now, if you don't mind, I have a stack of paperwork I'd like to get done in private."

He nodded, slowly standing and walking toward the door. She let her head fall to her hands and rubbed at her forehead, hoping the now-pounding headache would leave soon.

_Fuck. What a day._

"Taichou?"

She looked up at him.

"Thank you for trusting me—no one will find out from me."

She nodded, and he left almost silently, heading to his own quarters from what she could tell.

Perhaps it hadn't been such a bad idea after all.

Perhaps it was finally over.

* * *

"You know, I'm quite sure I was supposed to meet you at your division."

She turned, startled, finally looking away from the peaceful scene outside her bedroom window to the man standing in the doorway. He looked tired—normal for this time of year, she had learned.

Fall and winter seemed to be worse on him.

Thankfully he hadn't been in the hospital much, although there had been almost a full week last month that she had spent running between their divisions and the Fourth while he lingered in an uncomfortable hospital bed. It wasn't life-threatening, though, which was all that mattered anymore. He could be ill all he wanted as long as it wasn't threatening his immediate future.

"Sorry," she murmured, sending her lover a small smile in apology.

She turned back to the window, but she could see his reflection in the glass as he stepped up behind her, his large hands somewhat cold even through her layers.

"Bad day? I did speak to Shunsui—everyone is already here, you know—and he said that you were in quite good spirits this afternoon."

"Shuuhei," she growled. He nodded, a quirky smile on his face as he leaned down to press a kiss to her hair. "Questions and more questions. I'm so tired of _questions._"

"It is still recent. Give them time…soon it will be as forgotten as everything else is here."

"Oh? You're just as bad as the rest."

"For a very different reason. You know that, Minako. They are curious, worried but also wanting to know exactly what happened to their friend…I just care about you."

She nodded, squeezing his hand before stepping to the side.

"I don't feel like doing this tonight."

"C'mon, it's a very special night." He took her arm, gently guiding her from the room. "Besides, if Genryuusai-sensei must go, then _we_ must go. He won't let us get out of it."

"I know," she said exasperatedly.

"It is very important, Minako."

"You guys don't even celebrate it right! The Jidai Matsuri is supposed to be celebrated in Kyoto and it's usually celebrated during the day, not at night. Why do you guys even celebrate the relocation of the capitol? It's not like it affects you all. It's not like Kyoto is the capitol anymore, either…"

"No," he laughed. "But the seven ages of Japanese history do matter to us, therefore we celebrate. We just do it in our own way."

"It's not even an old festival."

"It was brought back to us in the human 1960's I believe, and we adopted the tradition."

"Ridiculous," she muttered, right as the turned from the long hallway separating the private rooms from the public areas of the large house. Her uncle and his other student were already waiting on them in the large reception room, with Nanao and Akane to the side, looking very nervous.

Akane she could understand, but Nanao? Surely this wasn't her first year serving as Shunsui's escort to this thing.

"Finally," her uncle muttered. "Let's go."

They all headed through the main doors, Hikaru fluttering about and fixing their kimono—she absolutely hated wearing this crap—or fussing about their hems. Even the men were picked at, which was the only saving grace as far as she was concerned.

They surely made quite the picture, all eight of them dressed in fine kimono and traipsing along through the Yamamoto gardens.

Suddenly, though, there was a squawk, and what sounded like very expensive silk ripping. She saw a flash of red as Akane fled, her kimono hiked up her legs indecently, and then Nanao was laughing so hard she was bent nearly in half.

"What are you fools—"

"Did you deserve that, Shunsui?" she heard Juushirou ask from her left, right about the same time Akane yelled out a very unapologetic, almost sarcastic, "sorry!"

They all stopped, clumped together on the front lawn of the house, and peered down at the hem of her former taichou's very bright, very pink, formal outer kimono. There was an obvious rip at the hem of the expensive fabric that correlated to the exact size of Akane's foot.

They all stared at the man in the middle of them.

"I didn't do anything!"

"Liar!" Akane shouted from her safe zone halfway across the lawn to the deserted house her mother once occupied.

"Ise-fuku-taichou?"

The young woman in question looked at the sou-taichou and nodded.

The sou-taichou popped him across the back of the head with his cane. Akane, now feeling it was safe enough to return to the procession, gingerly crossed over to the group. Instead of getting in front of Shunsui, though, she stuck next to Sasakibe.

Shunsui pouted as Nanao glared at him evilly.

"I couldn't help it," he whined pitifully to his girlfriend, who only continued glaring as they all began walking, once again, to the local shrine.

"More like he couldn't pass up a prime opportunity to get one over on one of the few females he's never groped," Minako muttered to the man next to her. He covered his mouth, faking a cough to hide his laughing.

"Be quiet, you two!"

They both shut up immediately—apparently Shunsui's stunt had already pissed the Yamamoto head off more than was good for anyone in his vicinity.

"But she ripped my lovely new kimono, my Nanao-chan!"

"You deserved it, baka."

"Promise me we won't end up like that," she whispered to her lover, who nodded forcefully.

"Be quiet! Minako-dono, at your age you should know how to behave! This is a solemn festival!"

"Hai, Hikaru-san." She caught her lover's bright, laughing gaze. "Yet _they_ don't get yelled at. Only the heir, obviously."

She sent her lover a quick grin and squeezed his hand, her way of letting him know her earlier sour mood was gone. It couldn't stick around long with the antics of this group.

But she couldn't help it.

Her uncle was alive. Hikaru was alive and well. Her taichou was alive and happy, Nanao was happy, even Akane looked happier than she had ever seen the girl. She had fit into the family so well that it was hard to imagine her not being there with them. And—she looked to the left—she had a man at her side that she could trust, that she could believe in, that she _knew_ cared for her.

Peace washed over her.

It wouldn't stay this way, she knew. Something would once again happen that would threaten the happiness they had found. But it wouldn't be today, or next week. It was in the future—a future she wasn't worrying about.

She was too happy in the present, enjoying her time with those she loved.


	42. Alternate Ending

A/N: This is a very short summary of the original ending of the story. From the very beginning, the ending had been cemented in my mind. But around halfway through writing the ending seemed to shift and change until something entirely different had been chosen. But I was in love with this ending, and even though no one seems to be too interested in it, I'm going ahead and posting a summary of it, as well as the very last scene, which I had written back in June.

* * *

"The Noble Sort: Alternate"

* * *

Instead of being freed by Central to return to shinigami service, Minako is imprisoned for her actions in the human world. Her imprisonment starts a string of actions—Akane leaves silently in the night, fleeing to the States to meet up with Rin and Mori to start a new life. She contacts Kenta, Isamu, and Chouko to let them know what has happened, and they immediately put into place Plan B.

While waiting on her rescue, Minako refuses any visitors to her cell. This means the few she gets—namely, Ukitake—say their part and then leave. Soon, Kenta and Isamu, both former members of the Kidō Corps., sneak in, break her out, and head to Rukongai. Her uncle sends three divisions after her but makes it known he is not entirely set on having her back in jail. He believes the only way he can help her is by letting her leave. Kyouraku congratulates him on finally having learned how to break the rules when needed.

The Eighth, Tenth, and Thirteenth are sent. The Eighth does nothing but patrol without any intent of bringing her back. The Tenth and the Thirteenth halfheartedly try to find her though, with Ukitake eventually capturing her before she can make it to the gate the boys have opened.

They have a long conversation, settling everything between them, and he is at first set on taking her back, trying to win her freedom legitimately. But he eventually lets her go after she pleads for her freedom. Minako makes it to the human world.

She is reunited with old friends briefly as she hides, trying to organize an escape from Japan. Finally she does leave, although she sends her uncle videos, pictures, and a letter through Yoruichi before she does so to thank him and explain how to find her in case he needs her in the future.

The letter also contains her messages to Nanao, Isane, Kyouraku, and Ukitake, who are happy she is free but upset at how things have turned out.

Minako returns to her old lifestyle as a defect shinigami.

The original final scene of the story takes place almost four months after this.

* * *

_Four Months Later_

The shop wasn't anything like what she had expected. It was bright and glowing in the late evening sun, no brighter than anything else on the Reno streets but different as well. While everyone else was selling sin, the store advertised hiking gear, skis, snowboards. All important items in the early winter near Lake Tahoe.

She could see Akane's brown hair—the girl looked good although the red hair was missed—through the large glass window. She was smiling, laughing with a customer as she tried to sell him a snowboard. Akane was a brilliant saleswoman, Minako knew; she would make the sale.

Minako smiled from the sidewalk across from the store. The girl was doing well. There was a brief tug, a wish to go to see her, but she knew she couldn't.

Akane wasn't being hunted. They had let her leave, the sou-taichou literally forming a wall of protection around the girl much like he had for the Visoreds. She was unknown here, safe with Rin and Mori's protection and knowledge of the human world.

It felt more like leaving a child than it should, but it was the only thing she could give her to keep her safe.

She looked down at the brown dog next to her, his gigai making him look like a nondescript Great Dane. His tongue was lolling out as he doggy-grinned, although she knew he was upset at leaving the girl behind as well.

But sometimes they had to do things they didn't want to do.

She silently whispered her goodbyes before turning and heading on down the street. She could catch a taxi near one of the larger casinos up ahead, then head to the airport and get going. She had everything she needed in her pack to set up a new life in Brazil.

She had been there once, with Matsu, when they were on their way to Argentina. It was a beautiful country, with enough rural space and hidden areas that she could make a new life without anyone ever getting even the barest hint of where she was.

Brazil was freedom.

"How much Portuguese do you know, shishi?" she asked lightheartedly, meandering down the road while she tugged on his leash.

_I know only what you learned—how to find a bathroom, an airport, a hotel, and food. _

"Hmm…can't be too different from Spanish. I guess we'll find out when we get there," she murmured, her mind already drifting to the house they would have to set up, the people they might meet, the new land they could come to call home.

She would see Akane again. Shinigami in the human world always had need of each other. It wouldn't be long before someone put her back on the network and friendships, old alliances, were reestablished.

She may even have a reason one day to return to Seireitei, to see all the people she had left behind there as well. Pale hair above warm, copper eyes floated in front of her vision and she genuinely smiled for the first time in a very long time.

She looked forward to it.


End file.
